


Before The World Catches Up

by ceiling_stars



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, Pining, Secret Agent!Frank, THIS IS FINALLY FINISHED IM SO HAPPY, Uses concepts from Inception, Weapon Maker!Gerard, has fluff in it too though??, secret agent AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5055163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceiling_stars/pseuds/ceiling_stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[very-loosely-based-on-Inception AU]<br/>Frank Iero's job as a secret agent is to go into people's minds and steal information from their heads. He's learned the hard way that in his situation, you can't have emotional attachments to anyone. He's doing a good job of forgetting his old life until he's presented with a new mission- Gerard Way.<br/>Otherwise known as the man Frank's still in love with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternates between time frames and POV's. There really isn't that much violence in this, but I put an archive warning just in case.  
> Comments are always appreciated.
> 
> (Also, I don't actually know too much about how secret agencies and stuff work, so please excuse my wild inaccuracy in this...)
> 
> Title comes from "Collar Full" by Panic! At The Disco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank's a secret agent, Gerard's some weapon designer dude. Enjoy?

_-then-_

Frank made his way through the pack of people and sat down at the bar, looking around to make sure he still had a visual on his target– there, talking to someone by the wall. Gesturing to the bartender for a beer, he sat back and watched the target, careful not to be too obvious. His beer was placed in front of him just as someone else sat down.  
Frank tore his eyes away from the target to glance at the guy next to him– just to get an idea of his surroundings– and stopped short.  
_Shit._ Whoever he was, he was attractive, leather jacket and black hair, fingers drumming lightly on the bar.  
He had also apparently noticed Frank's not-so-subtle staring, because the next thing Frank knew, he was being talked to.  
"I don't think I've seen you around here before," the guy said, turning towards Frank, voice slightly rough around the edges.  
"You haven't," Frank answered, regaining his composure. He could still see the target from the corner of his eye, but he wasn't really paying attention anymore.  
"Yeah, I would've remembered you," the guy replied, and Frank knew it was just a line, the one that fucking _everyone_ says at clubs, but _fuck_ , it was working. "Gerard," the guy added, holding his hand out to Frank.  
"Frank."  
"Frank," Gerard repeated, shaking his hand, sounding his name out.  
Gerard let go of Frank's hand to order a drink before turning back to Frank and saying something about what a nice night it was. Frank didn't really hear him that well over the music, but it was okay; he was content with just watching Gerard's mouth shape the words.

After a while (or was it only a few minutes?) Frank lost track of how many drinks Gerard bought him. His target was still in the club, now dancing with some stranger. Frank's fuzzy mind told him that he should get closer to the target, to be safe, for the mission, definitely _not_ just because the alcohol in his system was making him want to take Gerard into the tangle of bodies and pull him close, slip his hands under that jacket-  
"Hell, yeah," Gerard breathed, getting off the stool.  
Oh. Apparently Frank had said that out loud.  
That's cool, too, he thought as he felt himself be pulled onto the dance floor, Gerard's hand warm in his.  
He only had a moment to try and clear his thoughts before Gerard was pressed against him, grinding more than dancing. They were both too drunk to think about the fact that all they knew about each other was names and music tastes- Gerard felt too good against Frank for either of them to stop. Besides, Frank couldn't remember the last time he'd actually felt any kind of attraction to anyone he'd just met. He could indulge.  
Gerard laughed in Frank's ear, his breath skating over his neck, fingers curling over Frank's hipbones.  
"I'm not cool," Gerard giggled.  
"What?"  
"I was trying so hard to be cool when I saw you there," Gerard said as he snuck his fingers under the hem of Frank's shirt. "I'm not fucking cool," he added, laughing again, making Frank laugh too.  
"I like it," Frank murmured in Gerard's ear, as seductively as his drunken mind allowed.  
It worked, apparently, because all of a sudden Gerard stopped laughing, his smile replaced with a look of hunger. Frank stared at him for exactly half a second before tugging Gerard down by his jacket and kissing him.  
It was a clumsy kiss Frank knew he wouldn't remember in the morning, it was dirty perfection; the kind that made him almost regret getting drunk because Gerard kissed in a way that made Frank want to hold on to the moment forever.  
Gerard moaned into Frank's mouth- he felt it more than hear it. Frank put his hands in Gerard's hair in response and let himself get lost in the sensation of Gerard sucking on his bottom lip.  
They floated around in each other's space for who knows how long, hands roaming everywhere, Frank completely forgetting about his mission until he pulled back to breathe and realized his target was gone.  
"Shit," Frank blurted, his mind clearing almost immediately.  
"What?" Gerard asked distractedly.  
"I have to go," Frank said, moving away almost frantically. "Sorry, I- Fuck. I don't want to, but I-Do you have a pen?"  
"A wha- I mean, yeah, I have a..."  
Frank grabbed the pen Gerard gave him and hurriedly scribbled down a number on Gerard's arm.  
"Call me," Frank said, giving the pen back. "Or don't. But- call me anyway." _Smooth, Iero._ Frank stopped talking to kiss Gerard again quickly, leaning against him for a second and then pulling away. "Good night," he whispered into Gerard's ear before he left, running off to find his target.

_-now-_

The world, Gerard thinks, has really fucking changed.  
He didn't ask for this- to be building weapons for whoever pays the most, knowing that his hands have made the machines that will take lives. He isn't angry about it anymore, hasn't been for a while. Now he feels empty, watching himself put together a gun for the latest buyer.  
It wasn't always like this, of course; weapon-making used to be the kind of thing you only heard about in conversations, same with the Agencies.  
Now, though. Now is a different story.  
The Agencies are still secret (they are _secret_ agencies after all), but the demand for political power and weapons and good agents is so high that people like Gerard just get pulled into this life. The life where a someone pays you to build a weapon and you build the weapon, no questions asked. The general public lives in bliss, unaware; at least all these government agencies haven't destroyed everything. Gerard remembers when he was part of that general public, just starting to work for Brian. He remembers when Brian figured out that the arms business pays good money, the kind of money Brian didn't have, but needed.  
He remembers agreeing to work with Brian because he didn't have much of a choice either, remembers how he hasn't looked back since.  
It's been two years.  
Two years since the beginning, or the end? Gerard asks himself as he adjusts his lamp over his worktable. _Stop being fucking dramatic_ , he tells himself a second after.  
"Hey, Gee," comes Brian's voice from the back of the room.  
Gerard stands up and walks over to Brian, who's sitting in a chair holding a phone.  
"What's up?"  
"I just got off the phone. It was the Director of the AIS." Brian waves the phone around a little to illustrate.  
"AIS," Gerard repeats. "Who?"  
"Autonomous Intelligence Service, they're like one giant free-lance group of agents that take any job they get," Brian says. "They're super under-the-radar, not very many people know about them except for those in high positions of power. Which means," Brian adds, shifting in his seat, "They pay a hell of a lot of money to get what they need. They're like the top-notch guys the government turns to when they want something to stay _completely_ secret, under everyone's noses."  
"Oh," Gerard says. He has a feeling he isn't going to like this. "And?"  
"And," Brian says, "We have to make a bomb."  
_Oh_ , Gerard thinks, staying silent, frozen. _Oh._  
"Gerard?"  
"A bomb," he starts saying, and fails to continue. He tries again. "I mean. This, this is, um. How big?"  
"The Director said it should be big enough to bring down a good size of the Palace of Westminster," Brian says, expressionless. "Okay, we're not making the _entire_ bomb, the AIS have other people working on this too."  
"Are you fucking-" Gerard breaks off, feeling sick. "Westminster, what the _fuck_ , this is big, it's too big for us, Brian-"  
"We don't have choice, Gerard," Brian says urgently. "Do you have any idea how much this Agency could fuck us up if we don't cooperate?"  
"Who the fuck are they even working for?"  
"I don't know, some terrorists, I don't-" Brian runs a hand over his face in frustration. "The only part I have in this is that I have to help build it, I'm not in on any of the other stuff. I don't know."  
"You're building the thing that will bring down a parliament building." Gerard doesn't look at Brian's face when he says it. "And I have to help you."  
Brian doesn't say anything.  
"No," Gerard says, getting up. "No, I can't. I've done this stuff for two years now, I've always wanted to get out. This is it, I can't do this."  
He's about to walk away when Brian speaks up.  
"Where are you gonna go?"  
Gerard stops.  
"They're not only interested in me, Gerard," Brian continues. "They have other people working for them to make this thing, including me, and including _you_. What are you planning on doing?"  
Gerard stands there for a long time, Brian falling silent behind him. He's right- Gerard doesn't have a choice, either, never has. He stares at the door for another moment before sighing, turning back around to Brian with a sinking feeling, and sitting down.  
"What do we have to do?"  


_-then-_

Frank woke up with a magnificent hangover, a dry mouth, and a vague memory of last night. He knew he had gone to the bar, felt up some guy called Gerard, a really _hot_ guy, at that- then he'd gotten his shit together and left to find the target. At least, even drunk, he had completed the mission; he'd found the target, knocked him out, and gotten the information he needed from the target's sleeping mind.  
Following someone into their brain while they're asleep isn't something Frank can say he _likes_ , but it is, admittedly, interesting. The machine converts the mind into something relatively physical- a dream that Frank can move around in. He can navigate the person's mind from there, finding whatever secrets or information he's there for. Last night's mission was easy; just simple coordinates.  
Good thing, too, Frank thought as he rolled out of bed. He was too drunk last night to have done a more complicated mission.  
Frank lumbered around his apartment until he got to his kitchen, digging around in his cabinets for some aspirin.  
"Fucking stupid," he muttered to himself. Getting drunk during a mission was not the smartest of moves. Frank was just glad he hadn't completely fucked up. Plus, today and tomorrow were his days off. Could be worse.  
He took the aspirin and prepared himself for twenty-four hours of lying around.  


Gerard was just putting his toothbrush back (after an unpleasant round of throwing up in the toilet) when he noticed black scribbles along his forearm. A phone number.  
_Right_. He had completely forgotten about that. The guy's name was Frank, Gerard thought, starting to remember, and he'd kissed him.  
He couldn't remember much of the actual kissing, but he definitely remembered that Frank was fucking _good_ at it. Good enough that Gerard decided he should totally call him, even if Frank didn't remember giving him his number in the first place.  
He let his hangover mostly pass before picking up the phone and nervously punching in the number. Then he put the phone to his ear and waited.  
Frank answered on the third ring. "Hello?"  
"Yeah, hi," Gerard said, only then realizing that he didn't exactly plan out what he was going to say. "It's me? Gerard?"  
"Gerard!" Frank actually sounded genuinely happy, taking Gerard by surprise. "Hey, what's up?"  
"I'm... wait. You sound way too happy for someone who drank as much as you did last night."  
"What can I say, you have that effect on me," Frank replied smoothly. Gerard wondered if Frank could hear him blushing over the phone.  
"Oh. Um. Well, I-" Gerard coughed. What the fuck was he going to say, again?  
Frank chuckled over the phone. "Still hungover?"  
"Um, yeah." Gerard winced at his awkwardness. Frank didn't seem to mind, though.  
"I was thinking, you know, since I gave you my number and you actually called me, I should see you again sometime, how does that sound?" Frank said it all kind of fast, confident, making Gerard wonder how the fuck he did it.  
"That sounds great," Gerard said, finally able to say something without messing up.  
"Awesome," Frank answered. Gerard could hear a smile in his voice. "D'you think we could go for coffee? Like, tomorrow, if you're free? I know a good place nearby."  
"Yeah, um, sure," Gerard said, a small giggle seeping into his voice at Frank's eagerness. "Text me the address and I'll meet you there after lunch?"  
"Alright, cool," Frank said, smile still evident over the phone. "See you, Gerard."  
"Bye," Gerard replied softly, ignoring the way his heartbeat quickened when Frank said his name.  


_-now-_

The floor underneath Frank's feet jerks sharply out of nowhere, knocking him off balance. He lands on the tiles hard, his muttered " _fuck_ " joining the sound of his fall.  
Frank gets up slowly. The Director probably just delivered another punch to the hostage's jaw, explaining the quake. He shakes his head and silently pleads for the Director to save his tantrums for when Frank isn't in the hostage's mind anymore. It's fucking distracting.  
He's in some sort of hallway, a common landscape for Frank to find in someone's mind. There are most likely vaults here somewhere; Frank just needs to find them. He wanders around some more- there really isn't much of a strategy to this part other than dumb luck- making his way up the stairs when he finds nothing on the first floor.  
There isn't anything on the second floor, either, meaning that whatever Frank is looking for is intentionally hard to find, a secret the hostage doesn't want found out. Frank gets to the third floor and still finds nothing. At least the ground's steady this time.  
Fourth floor: jackpot. _Well, sort of_. A long hallway of vaults presents itself, the end of it not even visible.  
"Shi-i-i-it," Frank says, drawing the word out as he looks down the hallway. The right vault is going to fucking impossible to find.  
The entire hallway shakes violently again, announcing another hit to the hostage's head. Frank knows the Director well enough to deduce that he's currently shouting at the hostage to speak.  
Another shake. Frank's already on the floor, so this one doesn't bother him as much. Instead, it gives him an idea.  
_Wait_ , Frank thinks to himself, looking up to see lightbulbs over every vault door. The Director is currently pushing the hostage to give away information. Even if they don't talk, they'll still _think_ about it- and Frank will be able to see exactly what they're thinking.  
He scrambles to his feet and finds the light switch, turning off the ceiling lights all along the hallway.  
He waits in the dark. _Come on,_ he urges silently. _Throw another punch, come on._  
It happens almost at the exact moment he thinks it- the floor jolts, knocking Frank off balance again- but this time he doesn't care.  
A single lightbulb flashes in the dark hallway, not too far off. _Gotcha._  
Frank runs over to the vault under the light, making it there just the Director throws another punch up in the real world. He quickly puts in the code to unlock the vault (he'd gotten it beforehand) and then he's inside.  
The inside of the vault isn't really that interesting. Just an envelope on the floor. Frank snatches it and rips it open, reading the document inside. He barely has to skim through it to get to the information he's looking for- one word at the bottom of the page in big red letters: "LIE".  
Frank drops the document back on the floor. He has what he needs- his work here is done.  
He squeezes his eyes shut, concentrates hard, and wakes himself up.  


He's in the room with the Director and the hostage in the next moment, the Director's head turning sharply to look at him as soon as Frank wakes up. He notices the hostage was just about to receive another hit- Frank actually feels sorry for the guy.  
"Well?" The Director says impatiently, fist drawn back.  
Frank takes a deep breath. "He's lying."  
The Director gives Frank an icy, off-putting smile. "Thank you, Frank," he says before turning back to the hostage, who's now quivering in the seat with wide eyes.  
Frank turns away before he can see the Director's arm move.  


The hostage's cries of pain bounce off the walls, hitting Frank's ears. He guiltily tunes them out and walks out of the room.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More looks at Frank and Gerard's past relationship in this one.

_-then-_

Lying in bed awake, Frank stared at the ceiling, the silence and darkness engulfing him.  
He didn't know where Gerard was- he was used to it by now, though. It was the same almost every time: Gerard would text Frank that he was out, _don't wait up_ , and Frank would pretend to be asleep when Gerard came back completely wasted.  
Sometimes, Frank would be right there with him, as drunk as Gerard when they stumbled through the door late at night, and it would feel like six months ago when they first met as Gerard kissed him.  
They'd wake up in the morning with pounding headaches and Frank would think that maybe he should talk to Gerard about the drinking. He would take a breath to bring it up, only to have it die in his throat when Gerard gave him a shy, sweet smile over his coffee, convincing Frank that it was fine. They were fine.  
Tonight Frank was alone, a pool of worry in his stomach. He'd been waiting for the sound of the door opening for hours now. The ceiling stared back at him, offering no comfort. _Gerard_ , Frank thought, wishing Gerard could hear him. _Come home._  
Another half hour passed.  


Finally the door opened, Frank hearing it mixed in with the sounds of Gerard stumbling inside.  
"Stupid fucking... Fuck."  
Frank sat up, listening.  
" _Shit_ ," came Gerard's hiss from the hallway, making Frank get out of bed. Something was wrong.  
"Gerard," Frank said, reaching Gerard. "Hey."  
"Frankie," Gerard whispered, clutching onto Frank's t-shirt. "I'm..."  
"Yeah?"  
"Bathroom," Gerard said, and Frank supported him, taking him to the bathroom. He only noticed what was wrong when he turned on the light.  
"Shit, Gee, your hand," Frank breathed. Gerard's hand was bleeding, staining the tiles red.  
"The bottle broke," Gerard mumbled. "I'm so fucking... I'm sorry, Frankie, I-"  
"Shh," Frank soothed, grabbing a towel to take care of Gerard's hand.  
"No, Frank, I can't... I have to stop, _fuck_ ," and then Gerard was crying into Frank's shirt, clinging to his hand through the towel. "I hate it, I hate being like this and I don't..."  
"Gerard," Frank said into his hair, closing his eyes and rubbing Gerard's back. "Gee. I'm right here for you, okay? You're getting through this, I promise, I'm with you."  
The words made Gerard cling to Frank tighter. Frank held him right back, whispering into his ear.  
"Please, Gerard, we can make this right together. Okay?" Gerard didn't say anything, but Frank felt him give a nod. A weak one, but still a silent _okay_.  
They didn't let go of each other for a long time.  


_-now-_

Gerard sits across the table from Brian, silently working on drawing out a model for a gun, not really paying attention to what he's doing. He's managed to go half an hour without saying anything. Brian has effectively ignored him the entire time.  
Finally, though, Gerard breaks.  
"Brian," Gerard says.  
Brian looks up from his computer screen.  
"Are you sure there isn't--"  
"There isn't a way out of this that won't get us both killed, Gerard," Brian interrupts impatiently. "We've been over this."  
Gerard falls silent and goes back to his work, not telling Brian that maybe this is worth dying for.

_-then-_

Frank had himself perfectly snuggled up against Gerard, watching Frodo talk to Galadriel on the screen of the T.V.  
It was their first year anniversary, and they'd decided that the best way to spend it was a Lord of the Rings marathon and take-out. He made an appreciative noise when he felt Gerard's fingers card gently through his hair.  
"I'd never be able to be the Ring Bearer," Frank commented when Frodo held the ring out to Galadriel.  
"Well, Frodo didn't think so either, right?" Gerard answered.  
"Meh," Frank said as an answer, and turned his head to nuzzle a little at Gerard's neck.  
"I'd be your Sam," Gerard teased, flicking Frank's ear lightly.  
Frank rolled his eyes, smirking. "Please, you'd only go because you get to wear a Rivendell cloak."  
Gerard laughed, one of his beautiful loud laughs, the kind of laugh that made the words 'I love you' flit through Frank's mind.  
Frank tightened his grip on Gerard's shirt, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Gerard seemed to notice Frank's stillness and looked down at him, about to say something, but Frank beat him to it with a kiss, straddling his hips and resting his forehead against Gerard's.  
Gerard looked up at Frank, pleasantly surprised, curling his hand around the nape of Frank's neck.  
Frank stared down at him, temporarily frozen.  
Gerard blushed, squirming a little under his gaze before Frank kissed him briefly again.  
"I'm in love with you," Frank said, his fingers in Gerard's hair.  
"Frank," Gerard mumbled into Frank's mouth as he pulled him down for another kiss, saying his name like he couldn't believe he was real, an unspoken _I love you too_.  
Frank felt himself smile as he nipped at Gerard's lip, not caring that this was possibly the cheesiest thing he'd ever done; he had Gerard, and that was all that mattered. 

_-now-_

It's late at night when Gerard gets back to his apartment, exhausted. Him and Brian basically finished their part of the bomb tonight, a briefcase with the controls to detonate the bomb when given the detonation code. All they have to do now is tell the Agency the activation codes, and they're done- Brian had told Gerard that he'd take care of it, sending Gerard home.  
Gerard thinks about how Brian had been acting the entire day: silent, deep in thought, not saying more than a couple words at a time.  
His phone rings at that moment, Brian's name flashing across the screen.  
Gerard answers immediately. "Brian?"  
"Gerard, they came here, the Agency, I fucked it up," Brian's voice says into Gerard's ear through the phone, panicked.  
" _Shit_ ," Gerard says, getting out of his apartment and running down the street as fast as he can. "What the fuck did you do?"  
"I tried- I tried to stop them from... They're gone now, but-" Brian coughs on the other end.  
"Never mind, don't talk, just breathe, I'm almost there," Gerard says as he bursts through the doors to their workshop.  
He hangs up the phone when he sees Brian lying on the floor among broken glass and overturned tables.  
"Brian," Gerard breathes, sinking to his knees. "Fuck, you're hurt, we have to get you to a hospital-"  
"No," Brian interrupts. "No, just- I'm not going to make it, they got me pretty bad- it's okay," he adds when a cry escapes Gerard's throat. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I tried to stop them- because I've been thinking about what you said, how it's going to hurt so many people."  
Gerard's incapable of words, just shaking his head in horror as Brian coughs, blood dribbling down his chin.  
"I tried," Brian whispers, "I tried to do the right thing, because you were right, I shouldn't have-"  
"The 'right thing' got you _shot_ ," Gerard cries. "And it's my fault, _fuck_."  
"It's not your fault," Brian says. "You can- you can still stop them, they took the briefcase but you can still hack into its system from a computer here, and change the codes so the ones they have are wrong-" Brian stops talking to cough again.  
"I can't just leave you here," Gerard says brokenly.  
"You have to," Brian answers. "Do it for me. Please."  
"Brian," Gerard says when Brian's grip on his hand starts to loosen.  
"Thank you," Brian says weakly on an exhale.  
He doesn't take another breath.  


Gerard doesn't let go of Brian's hand for a while, waiting for something, _anything_ to happen, for Brian to wake up, open his eyes.  
It doesn't happen.  
Gerard stands up, feeling disconnected, not feeling the knowledge of Brian's death hit him. He just has to hack into the bomb's control system. That's what he has to do. Everything else is okay.  
He sits down at Brian's computer and finds the codes for the bomb, only thinking about the task at hand.  
He's into the system in ten minutes. He finds the activation codes and erases them, replacing them with a new code. Now when the Agency tries to detonate the bomb with the original codes, it won't work.  
One problem is left, though. Gerard can't let the Agency find the new codes, or else everything will have been for nothing. His gaze lands on a machine in the corner, the one that can download files into your mind, into your subconscious- the highest form of security.  
Perfect.  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter... Hope ya like it.

_-now-_

Frank enters the room, careful to keep any emotion off his face. The Director is sitting at his desk, his hands folded in front of him like some sort of movie villain, and Frank barely stops himself from rolling his eyes.  
"Sit down," the Director says, fake smile in place. Frank takes a seat and prepares himself for whatever the Director has to tell him.  
"Two days ago, a team was sent out to obtain some confidential codes from Brian Schechter and Gerard Way," the Director says.  
Frank's jaw almost drops. _Gerard?_ Shit.  
The Director notices Frank's disbelief and chuckles. "Yes, I know you're familiar with Mr. Way. But that's not the point," he says, smile disappearing. "When my agents went in to get the codes, Brian refused to hand them over, leaving us no choice but to kill him."  
Frank swallows, his throat dry. "And Gerard?"  
"Gerard wasn't there at the time- he arrived after my agents got the codes and left. However," the Director continues, a venomous glint in his eye, "I've recently been informed that he has changed the codes, leaving us with outdated ones. We believe he has downloaded the real codes into his mind, thinking them out of reach from us."  
Frank forgets to breathe. He knows what's coming next.  
"We're both well aware of your relationship with Gerard Way--"  
"Past relationship." Frank inwardly cringes when he realizes he just interrupted his boss.  
"Excuse me?" the Director asks.  
"Well, it's not a relationship anymore, right?" Frank says, unbidden irritation seeping into his voice. _Fuck._  
The Director smirks slightly and Frank clenches his fists, wills himself to calm down.  
"We're aware of your _past_ relationship..." the Director pauses to make sure Frank doesn't interrupt him again, "...with Gerard Way. This also means that you know him fairly well, is that right?"  
Frank digs his nails into his palms. "Yes," he mutters.  
"So it might be easier for you to navigate Gerard's mind than it would be for others, correct? It's only natural."  
Frank meets the Director's steely gaze.  
"Look, I'm not gonna mess with his head."  
"He has information we need," the Director says.  
"What do you need this information for, anyway?" Frank presses on.  
"That is confidential."  
"Well, you can forget about getting me to work for you," Frank says as he gets up.  
" _Sit down_ ," the Director growls. "I'm still your boss, you work for me whether you want to or not. I'll tell you why exactly I need this information after you agree to hack into Mr. Way's mind to get it for me."  
"No." Frank knows he's stepping out of line and he doesn't even care anymore.  
"Maybe this will change your mind," the Director says in a bored voice. "We have other ways of getting this information... More, how shall I put it, _physical_."  
Ice settles in Frank's stomach.  
"You're not saying..."  
"I will not hesitate to resort to torture methods should you be this difficult. You know I have agents with the right skills to do it."  
Shit. _Shit_. Frank's frozen, except his hands, which are shaking violently.  
"I'll do it," Frank hears himself say.  
"I'm glad we could come to an agreement," the Director says, but it's only background noise as Frank storms out of the room.  


Gerard locks the door as soon as he gets into his apartment, leaving the lights off for a second as he leans his head on the wall. He's still in shock from what happened at the workshop.  
Gerard takes a breath, closes his shaking hands around his keys, and switches on the lights. Everything's in order; no overturned tables, no men in suits waiting for him. The stillness offers a tiny ounce of comfort.  
That comfort dissipates as soon as it hits him.  
_Brian._ Dead.  
Gerard's sliding down the wall to the floor, all the strength gone from his legs. He can't think anything other than _Brian,_ over and over again, waves of disbelief hitting him in time with his breaths.  
He can't deal with it, he needs a fucking _drink,_ just tonight, _shit._ Gerard bites into his palm, almost drawing blood. He's so tempted to do it, go to a bar and get so wasted he won't know Brian's name anymore, and he almost does– but then Frank's voice shows up in his hazy mind out of nowhere.  
_You're gonna get better, Gee. Come on. I'm right here with you, this isn't how you fix things, come on, please--_  
It's barely a whisper of a memory, but it's still there. Telling him he's going to be okay. That Frank's there for him.  
Except, Gerard thinks, _he's not here for me anymore._  
Gerard pushes that thought away, focusing on the sound of Frank's voice.  
It hurts.  
Instead of pushing him to the bar, though, the pain brings Gerard to his bed, envelopes him when he lies down, and lulls him into a dreamless sleep.  


_-then-_

The room was silent, morning light just starting to seep in through the windows. Frank's eyes drifted open, still half-asleep.  
He could see the outline of Gerard's dark hair against the pillow in the dimness. Frank waited for his eyes to adjust and let himself simply look at Gerard, at his slightly parted lips, at the curl of his fingers over the sheets.  
Frank shifted closer and gently laced his fingers with Gerard's, careful not to wake him, and closed his eyes again.  


"Frankie," Gerard's whispered voice nudged Frank awake an hour later.  
"Mm," Frank replied, blindly reaching out for him, not bothering to open his eyes again yet.  
"I've gotta go," Gerard murmured in Frank's ear. Frank finally opened his eyes and saw Gerard leaning over him, dressed in his day clothes.  
"It's that late already?"  
Gerard smiled and gave Frank a soft kiss. "Yeah. Left you some coffee, though," he hummed as Frank brought a hand up to rest in Gerard's hair.  
"Stay," Frank whispered, tugging on Gerard's shirt a little.  
"Can't, work," Gerard whispered back before gently pulling away. "I'll see you tonight."  
Frank let his fingers slip out of Gerard's hair. "Okay."  
Gerard smiled again and walked out of the room.  


Frank got out of bed soon after, yawning as he padded barefoot into the kitchen. He noticed an envelope on the counter addressed to him.  
It was completely plain, no return address or logo. _Huh._ Frank ripped it open and unfolded the paper inside.  


_Mr. Frank Iero-_

_We are aware that you no longer hold your position as an agent for the AIS. However, we are now facing times where we need our best agents at hand. The AIS orders you to return to your duties-_

"No," Frank said. "No, no, no."  


_We are aware that you have the power to ignore this message. Despite this, there comes a consequence- we recognize that you have formed emotional attachments during your time away. The AIS will not hesitate to sever said attachments if you refuse to follow orders. The choice is yours._

_Thank you for your cooperation._

' _Sever said attachments_.' Frank had been an agent long enough to know what that meant- they wouldn't hesitate to kill Gerard unless Frank came back, returning to his position as an agent. One thing the letter didn't mention, but Frank knew, was that even if he did return to duty, he wouldn't be able to see Gerard again- he wasn't allowed to have relationships.  


Frank could either leave Gerard now and save his life, or hold on to him as long as possible until the Agency found Gerard and killed him.  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... Let the angst begin. (Hopefully it's not too badly written whoops)

_then_

It was finally Friday night, and Gerard almost couldn't wait for the elevator to get to his floor. It had been an exhausting week- right now all he wanted was the comfort of his apartment, and Frank, who he knew was inside already.  
"Frank?" Gerard called when he unlocked the door.  
No answer. There was, however, a sound coming from the bedroom. So Frank was here.  
"Hey, I–" Gerard cut short as soon as he got to the bedroom.  
Frank looked up at him from over his suitcase with red, wet eyes. Gerard could see it was already full.  
He tried to speak. Failed.  
"Gerard," Frank said in a small voice.  
_What?_  
"Gerard," Frank said again, getting to his feet and rushing over to him, tears spilling out of his eyes.  
"Are you–" Gerard started, but didn't finish the sentence when Frank tugged on him and hugged him so tight it almost hurt.  
"I'm so sorry, Gerard, fuck," Frank said into his shirt, getting his shoulder wet.  
"Frank, what's going on, tell me," Gerard answered, trying to look at Frank. Frank shook his head and held him tighter. "Frank," Gerard whispered, feeling lost.  
Frank stood still for a moment, just breathing in and out on Gerard's shoulder as Gerard dropped a kiss on the top of his head.  
"It's okay if you want to leave," Gerard said miserably, telling the truth even though he could feel his heart breaking, still so confused.  
Frank shook his head again as he pulled away from Gerard to look at him.  
"I don't want to leave, I'd never want to leave," he whispered.  
Gerard stroked his thumbs over Frank's cheeks, wiping away his tears. "Then don't," he whispered back desperately. "Tell me how to help. What's going on?"  
"I can't– I can't tell you," Frank choked out. "I'm so sorry," he said again, and at the same time he tugged on Gerard's hair, pulling him down for a kiss.  
Gerard still felt lost– _why was Frank kissing him if he was leaving?_ –  
"Whatever it is, we can fix it," Gerard said softly when he pulled away.  
Frank made a helpless noise and stepped out of the circle of Gerard's arms, towards the suitcase.  
" _Frank_ ," Gerard pleaded, blinking through his tears as Frank lifted the suitcase off the bed and walked out of the room.  
"I can't tell you, I want to, I wanna stay," Frank said in a rush when he got to the door.  
"You're not making any fucking sense!" Gerard felt the last of his calm slip away to panic. "Frank, tell me why you're leaving, we can figure something out, _please_ ," he begged as Frank turned to face him again.  
"I love you," Frank whispered.  
Then he was out the door.  
No no no no no, Gerard thought as he opened the door and ran after Frank down the hall.  
"Frank. Frank, _please_."  
Frank pressed the down button for the elevator and got into Gerard's space again, brushing his hair from his face.  
"You can't follow me," Frank told him. "Don't try and find me. Please. Just– _Fuck_ , I love you, alright?" he said, gently wiping Gerard's tears away.  
"You're gonna be okay," Frank said quietly with a weak smile.  
The elevator doors slid open. Frank picked up the suitcase and stepped inside as Gerard protested.  
"No, I'm not, I won't be okay, Frank, please I love you–"  
Gerard caught one glimpse of Frank's face before the doors shut.  
He was gone.  
"No, no, _no_." Gerard frantically pressed the elevator button, his vision blurry from his tears.  
_You can't follow me._  
He sat there on the floor for who knows how long, waiting for Frank to come back and tell him it was just a joke, of course everything was fine. The elevator was empty when it returned to Gerard's floor.  
He didn't follow him.  
He waited.

•

_now_

Frank is already on a train away from the Director before he remembers he left without asking what he needed the information for. All Frank knows is he's stealing some codes from Gerard's head, apparently so well hidden that Gerard himself wouldn't be able to just tell him what they were off the top of his head.  
At least, until they used _torture methods_ , the Director's voice whispers in Frank's mind.  
No way is Frank letting the Director fucking _torture_ Gerard.  
Frank swallows thickly as the train pulls into the station, and reluctantly steps off. 

Frank has directions to Gerard's apartment in his phone, but he doesn't need them– his feet take him there on auto pilot. He stops on the sidewalk when he gets the first glance at Gerard's place, his heart thudding. Frank's eyes automatically count the windows to find Gerard's, just like he used to. He feels a little stalker-ish doing it now, but that thought evaporates when he finds Gerard's window and sees a light on.  
He can see the outline of a canvas sitting on an easel and his throat tightens when he sees a shadow moving around in the room.  
Then Frank sees him– _Gerard_. Methodically twisting the cap off a tube of paint, brushing his bangs out of his eyes with the back of his hand. Frank feels like he's been punched in the stomach, frozen in place as he watches Gerard go about his business. He releases a shaky breath. Gerard's _right there_ , closer than he's been in two years, completely oblivious to the fact that Frank's standing outside of his apartment.  
Frank wants to run away, but he remembers the Director's orders– find Gerard, immediately get him unconscious, get the codes, get out.  
He is technically ahead of schedule, but Frank has the feeling that if he runs away now he won't be able to come back tomorrow.  
Frank slowly unlocks the door with the key he hadn't realized he kept until after he'd left Gerard. It hurts him to use it, like maybe he can pretend everything is normal and he's just visiting Gerard as usual, he'll open the door and Gerard will be happy to see him, take his hand and lead him inside. Kiss him.  
Frank pauses with his thumb on the elevator button.  
Maybe he could explain everything. Why he had left him for no apparent reason, why he had to go right when they were settling down. How fucking ironic it is that the reason he's back is the same reason as why he left.  
Guilt sits heavy in his stomach, mixing in with the doubt, making his fingers tremble. He can't do this to Gerard, not after everything.  
" _Fuck_ ," Frank mutters, taking a step back.  
He's in the same building, so fucking close, and he's only going to lose him again. It's almost as if the Director wanted him for this job just to watch him struggle.  
He can't do this. _But I have to._  
There's no other way. Frank sets his jaw and jabs the button.

•

Gerard sits in front of his easel, fiddling with the tube of paint in his hands as he stares at the blank canvas. He's not really looking at it– his mind is filled with images from his dreams.  
They've been dark lately, red and black, paired with the feeling of loss. The occasional voice saying his name, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Frank, but always disappears before Gerard can listen.  
Thinking about his dreams makes his hands shake. Gerard harshly attacks the canvas with his brush to hide the trembling, dark slashes colouring the white.  
He goes on like that for a while, recreating a scene from last night's dream, not really paying attention to what it looks like. Instead he wonders what the fuck he plans on doing- the Agency is going to be after him soon enough, he knows it.  
He could run, but they will catch up eventually. Gerard can't think of anywhere to run to, anyway.  
Besides- if the Agency kills him, at least they won't have the codes. It's the only thought that comforts him.  
He's about to take a break when there's a knock at the door.  
Gerard sighs and drags himself up to answer it.  
"Hi, I–" Gerard's voice dies in his throat when he looks up to see who had knocked.  
Frank.  
Gerard goes completely still, a million emotions fighting for a spot in Gerard's chest. The top three end up being shock, anger, and– _hope._  
Frank seems to be incapable of words, too– he's staring at him with a look on his face that Gerard can't decipher.  
"Frank," Gerard says in a small voice, the only thing he knows how to say at the moment.  
Frank doesn't say anything, just takes a step towards him, ever so lightly brushing his thumb over the back of Gerard's hand. Gerard stares back at Frank with wide eyes, not believing it.  
He hears Frank take a breath, about to say something, and he feels his hope grow, turning into careful happiness.  
"I'm sorry," Frank says.  
Gerard only has a second for his happiness to morph into fear before Frank's fist connects with his jaw.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time-frame jumping kinda stops around here, now that you know about what made Frank leave. Enjoy!

Frank feels numb as he steps forward to catch Gerard before he hits the floor.  
He closes the door behind him with his foot, carrying Gerard to the couch and laying him down before dropping his bag on the floor to bring out his equipment.  
Frank grabs Gerard's wrist to connect the cuff to the wires in his briefcase, and stops short, taking a moment to just look at him.  
His bangs are slightly too long, draping over his eyebrows. Frank can tell he hasn't been sleeping very well– he has dark circles under his eyes. Frank gently runs his thumb over the spot where he punched him. Gerard's breath ghosts over his hand.  
Frank leans back on his heels, untangles his fingers from Gerard's– _when did he start holding his hand?_ – and gets out the other cuff, closing it around his own wrist.  
Refusing to think about the moment of weakness Frank had before punching Gerard, he drags a chair over and takes a seat. He waits for himself to go unconscious.

•

Frank finds himself in some sort of garden. He looks up and sees the door to Gerard's apartment, standing solitarily in the middle of a patch of grass.  
Frank takes a deep breath, preparing himself. He has to be careful– he could seriously disrupt Gerard's mind if he fucks up. He slowly opens the door.  
Gerard's mind-apartment is quiet when Frank walks in, sunlight streaming in through the windows to dapple the floor.  
He has to find the next door to go deeper into Gerard's mind, find where the codes are hidden.  
A sound comes from another room, the rustling of bedsheets. Frank takes a few steps forward and looks into the bedroom.  
He sees himself, one arm thrown over Gerard's waist, both of them sleeping quietly. The clock on the bedside table reads 7:03 AM. Gerard stirs a little under Other Frank's arm as Frank watches with a lump forming in his throat.  
Gerard's eyes flutter open and he sits up, not seeing Frank in the doorway.  
Other Frank weakly tries to pull Gerard back down.  
"Relax, I'm making coffee," Gerard giggles.  
_I remember this._ He's standing in one of Gerard's memories.  
"Coffee later," Other Frank mumbles into the pillow. "Sleep now."  
Gerard sinks back into the pillows, smiling when Other Frank snuggles close.  
_Enough._ Frank can't watch this anymore. He tears his eyes away, a sick feeling in his stomach as he looks for the next door. 

He practically runs through the door when he finds it, coming to a stop somewhere else entirely– a city.  
He's in the next part of Gerard's mind; now he has to figure out where the codes could be hidden. Frank takes a look around him and realizes that where normally there are shops and restaurants, now there are windows to more of Gerard's memories.  
Through the window nearest to Frank, there's a Christmas tree in a warmly lit room.  
Frank sees Mikey and Gerard there, talking and sitting on the floor. It's Gerard's apartment again. He swallows thickly as he realizes he remembers this, too– any second now Other Frank is going to walk into the room and sit down next to Gerard.  
It happens as soon as Frank thinks it. Other Frank plops himself down on the floor beside Mikey and Gerard, smiling.  
Frank's chest tightens when he sees Gerard's face light up as Other Frank takes his hand.  
Frank shakes his head, trying to clear it.  
He has to keep moving. Who knows what he'll fuck up if he sees more memories; especially ones he wants to forget. 

•

Making his way to what he thinks is the heart of the city, Frank is careful not to get caught up in looking through the windows at Gerard's memories.  
He crosses the road and notices that the buildings abruptly stop. He runs up the sidewalk and finds himself on the shore of an ocean.  
There's a house floating among the waves, not too far off from where Frank is standing.  
_There._ Frank's sure that's where the codes are hidden. The waves touch Frank's toes before retreating with a sigh. He's about to wade into the water towards the house when he notices something wash up onto the sand. A piece of paper, the ink on it already starting to run.  
Frank picks it up and recognizes his own poetry.  
_Shit._ Now is not the time for this, Frank thinks, blinking rapidly as he drops the paper. He's finding himself everywhere in Gerard's mind and memories– Gerard evidently isn't even close to letting Frank go.  


Frank wonders what his own mind looks like.

•

He swims to the house, his clothes drying as soon as he gets inside. He's confused for a moment before he remembers that it's normal, considering he's asleep.  
It looks like a regular house at first glance, but Frank's been doing this job long enough to know where to look.  
Usually things like mind vaults are hidden almost in plain sight.  
Frank checks the closet door first, finding nothing. Next he goes into Gerard's studio and opens the drawer where he usually keeps his paints.  
_Bingo._  
There's an envelope in the drawer, surely containing the codes the Director's looking for. Frank wonders what they're for– why did he have to forget to ask before he left?  
The purpose of the codes aside, Frank shouldn't spend too much time in Gerard's subconscious. _Get them and leave._  
Frank takes the envelope and closes the drawer, turning around to walk out, only to run into Bob Bryar.

(Frank doesn't make a habit of being friends with the Director's closest, most trusted agents. As a result, all he knows about Bob is that if he has a mission in mind, there's no getting around him.  
Frank's been pretty good at avoiding agents like Bob until now.)

"Bob," Frank says in surprise, jumping back.  
"Hey, Frank," Bob says. He doesn't look too happy, but then, he never does.  
"Why are you here?" Frank demands. What if Bob messed something up in Gerard's head?  
"I'm here for the codes, Iero. I had to make sure you didn't do something... tricky. So I tracked you all the way here."  
_What the fuck?_  
Bob notices the incredulous look in Frank's face and adds, "Look, you're the one that used to be in a relationship with him. The Director wanted to be sure you completed the mission, and nothing more than the mission."  
Bob pauses. "It's just simple protocol, Frank. Besides, you led me right to the codes. No harm done."  
"Fuck you," Frank says when he finds his voice. "Do you have any idea what shit you might cause if you let _two people_ in someone's mind?"  
"Frank, calm down." Bob tries to take the codes from Frank's hand, but Frank moves away.  
"What are the codes for?" Frank asks. "Why are they so important that you'd risk seriously messing with Gerard's head for them?"  
Bob rolls his eyes. " _'Gerard's head'_ isn't actually our top priority right now. Believe it or not, you're the only one that cares so much."  
"Fuck you," Frank snarls again.  
Bob's eyes narrow. "Give me the codes."  
Frank doesn't move.  
"If you really need to know, they're activation codes for a _bomb_ , okay? Happy? Now hand them over," Bob says.  
"A fucking bomb? What the hell do you need a bomb for?"  
"I don't know."  
Frank knows that's complete bullshit.  
They glare at each other for a moment before Bob speaks up again.  
"Frank, give me the codes or I'll _actually_ mess things up."  
_Fuck._ He has no choice. Frank slowly hands the envelope to Bob.  
"I was never gonna hurt him, Frank," Bob says, taking the envelope. "I just fixed him."  
_Fixed him?_  
"You've seen how, ah, _distressed_ Gerard is because of you," Bob drawls, his voice taunting. "Luckily that won't be a problem anymore. I made sure to erase you from his mind before I came here. Just in case you thought you could somehow get him back."  
Bob waves the envelope at Frank. "Thanks for getting these to me. The Director might actually be pleased with you for once."  
Frank is ready to tackle Bob by now, but he's suddenly alone in Gerard's subconscious. Bob's gone, awake in the real world, probably getting out of Gerard's apartment right now.  
After he just fucking _erased Gerard's memory_.  
Well, not all of it. Just everything that was Frank.

Maybe it's for the best, maybe now Gerard can find someone else, someone who can make him _happy_ –  
"Frank?"  
A voice from behind him. Gerard's voice.

Frank slowly turns around. Gerard is standing in the doorway, looking almost shy.  
"I... But you... Bob..."  
Gerard shakes his head. "Bob erased you from everywhere except here."  
"So you won't forget me?" Frank cringes at how desperate his voice sounds.  
Gerard gives him a sad smile. "Frank, you have to understand you're not really talking to all of me, to ' _Gerard_ '," he says, making finger quotes. "We're in the deepest part of the subconscious right now, but the rest of my mind doesn't have any of you in it. I don't think it's enough for me to remember you when I wake up," Gerard adds softly.  
"We're in the deepest part of your subconscious," Frank repeats, just to say something. It explains why Gerard isn't really freaking out that he's seeing Frank again, at least. He's in a place in Gerard's mind that's past all the confusion and grief.  
"Yeah. You're talking to Gerard's subconscious," Gerard says, nodding. "Well. _My_ subconscious. I mean– it's weird, I don't know," Gerard says, waving his hands in that way that Frank has missed painfully for two years, and suddenly Frank doesn't give a shit whether he's talking to Gerard's subconscious or Gerard or _whatever_.  
He crosses the room in a fraction of a second, takes Gerard's face in his hands, and kisses him.  
Gerard responds almost immediately, kissing him back with a desperate sound escaping from his throat.  
Frank presses Gerard against the wall, moving down to his jaw, nipping a little at the skin there before soothing it with kisses.  
"Frank," Gerard breathes, his fingers slipping into Frank's hair.  
"Missed you, I miss you, fuck," Frank says against Gerard's neck.  
"Me too," Gerard gasps when Frank sucks on the sensitive skin under his jaw. "But– Wait, Frank, we can't."  
Frank rests his forehead on Gerard's shoulder, breathing hard.  
"We should stop," Frank says quietly.  
"Yeah," Gerard answers.  
"Don't wanna," Frank says, not moving.  
"Believe me, Frank, me neither," Gerard says, laughing a little. "But you've got some shit going on in the real world. You don't have much time."  
"No kidding," Frank murmurs, and finally pulls away from Gerard. "One day."  
"One day, what?" Gerard asks, brushing his thumb across Frank's cheek.  
"I'll come find you. One day. I'll get out."  
Gerard looks like he wants to believe it, but can't.  
"I will," Frank says. "I'll come back. Just... Please try and remember me. Please," he whispers.  
Gerard sighs. "I don't know if it's possible, Frank."  
Frank nods slowly, looking at the floor.  
"I'll try," Gerard says. That's going to have to be good enough.  
Frank steps back from Gerard and wakes up. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to post this as soon as possible because I might not get time to write later. Hope you like it!

He's back in Gerard's apartment, awake. Bob's nowhere to be seen, as Frank expected.  
He looks at Gerard, still asleep on the couch.  
Frank quickly disconnects him from the cuff and wires, packing his equipment into his bag. He doesn't know how long he has until Gerard wakes up–  
"Who the fuck are you?"  
Frank freezes. _Shit._  
"Um," he says, looking at a very, very awake Gerard. "I was just..."  
"What's going on?"  
Frank considers knocking Gerard out again, but he figures that might be pushing it. He opts for telling Gerard the truth, because what the fuck, Gerard doesn't even know who Frank is anyway.  
"Some codes for a bomb were stolen from your head," Frank says, and Gerard pales.  
"Did you steal them? Was there someone else?"  
"Uh, no, it wasn't me. It was another agent." Frank answers. (Okay, maybe only _part_ of the truth.)  
"Anyway, I need to stop the Agency from using the bomb," Frank says.  
Gerard stares.  
"Okay, wait, hold up. You," Gerard says, "are gonna explain this shit."  
He sits up and gestures for Frank to sit next to him.  
Fuck.

Frank sits down in a daze, feeling his heart sink when Gerard looks at him like he's a complete stranger.  
"Start from the beginning?" Gerard asks, and Frank doesn't see a way out of this situation, so he takes a deep breath.  
"I work for an Agency," he starts slowly. "I was supposed to get some information from your mind, but I didn't know what it was for. I was followed by another agent and they took the codes from me. I only found out they were for a bomb today."  
He pauses. Gerard doesn't say anything, so Frank continues.  
"The Agency wouldn't do anything good with a bomb in their hands. At least, not with the leader we have now. I need to take down our current Director and steal the bomb back so no disasters happen," Frank finishes.  
"I know it's a lot to take in at once, but that's what the situation is," Frank adds.  
"What the fuck," Gerard says.  
Frank's heart stutters. That's exactly what _his_ Gerard would say.  
_It's the same Gerard_ , Frank has to remind himself. _He just doesn't know you yet._  
"So, what, you're just gonna kill your boss?" Gerard asks.  
"Look, it's the only way to bring the Agency down, and believe me, the world would be much safer if the Agency didn't exist."  
"And then the bomb won't be used? Maybe we'd get a chance to deactivate it?"  
"Yeah, the Agency would disappear, the bomb would get deactivated–" Frank stops. "Wait. _'We'_?"  
"Fuck, yeah, _we_. I'm coming with you," Gerard answers, getting up.  
"What?"  
"You're gonna kill some big dangerous guy and steal a bomb at the same time? With no backup? No way, I'm helping you, okay?"  
"Why the fuck do you even trust me?" Frank asks in disbelief. This really isn't how he expected this mission to turn out.  
Gerard stops and looks at Frank closely. "I don't really _trust_ you," he says finally, shrugging. "I just somehow trust you not to kill me in my sleep. That's enough, right? Plus, you said the world would be better off without this... Agency. So, I'm in. I'll ignore the fact that you broke into my house," he adds with a wink.  
A fucking _wink._  
Frank just stares dumbly at Gerard.  
"When do we leave?" Gerard asks, grabbing his coat.  
"Um," Frank manages to say.  
Gerard fixes him with a determined look, telling him not to argue.  
"Now, I guess?" Frank says weakly.  
"Great, how long will we be gone? Should I pack clothes?"  
_What the fuck._  
"We'll just go back to my place? I have extra toothbrushes and clothes or whatever," Frank hears himself say.  
Gerard smirks a little. "Do this often?"  
Frank _does not_ blush. No way.  
"I'm kidding," Gerard says before Frank has the chance to answer. "Lead the way, mysterious agent-man. What's your name, anyway?"  
"Frank," he mumbles as Gerard locks the door to his apartment.  
"Nice to meet you, Frank," Gerard says, grinning and shaking Frank's hand. "I'm Gerard. Hopefully you can prove to me that I can trust you."  
Then he walks to the elevators, leaving Frank standing there in some form of shock.  
"Frankie? You coming or what?" Gerard calls from the end of the hall.  
_Frankie._  
He can't do this.  


•

The trip back has got to be the most painful train ride Frank's ever been on.  
Having to be this close to Gerard when he doesn't even know who Frank is?  
Yeah. Not fun.

To make matters worse, Gerard is as irresistible as ever, talking with his hands and occasionally licking his lips, except now Frank can't do anything about it, like kiss him, because you don't kiss strangers you're supposed to be stealing a bomb with.  
So Frank suffers the entire ride while Gerard remains completely oblivious.  
"So, why are you in this Agency in the first place?" Gerard asks after a few minutes of staring out the window.  
"I'm a... mind-hacker, of sorts," Frank says. "I go into people's minds to get information. It's hard for the Agency to get agents as good as me, so they're willing to do anything they can to make me work for them."  
"So you didn't have a choice."  
Frank picks at his frayed jeans. "I did at the beginning. But back then I didn't know what I was working for, you know? I didn't know how messed up they were, or maybe I kind of did, but I didn't really care. I just got paid, end of story."  
"So... what changed?" Gerard asks softly. Frank stills.  
"Never mind, sorry, it's not my business," Gerard says quickly.  
"No, it's okay," Frank says. "It's just..." He doesn't know what he intended to say. Apparently Gerard doesn't mind, though, because he doesn't question it.  
"I got out for a little bit. I quit. But then they wanted me back, and, here I am," Frank continues. "This is the kind of Agency that doesn't really care about making the world better, or saving people, you know? It's more about power and how many weapons you can get. We're more the 'bad guys'," Frank says, making bunny ears with his fingers.  
" _They_ are," Gerard says.  
"What?"  
"They're the 'bad guys'. I don't think you are," Gerard tells him with a smile. "I'm getting the feeling you're a good guy."  
Frank can feel his face heat up as he tries to think of something to say without sounding like an idiot.  
"Anyway," Gerard says, still smiling a little as he looks at his shoes, "I'm on your side for this one. Down with the Director?"  
"Down with the Director," Frank repeats, looking out the window to stop himself from staring at Gerard's mouth.  
"You know, I kinda get where you're coming from," Gerard says. Frank looks back to him.  
"I started working with Brian for mechanical design stuff, that kind of thing," Gerard goes on. "But apparently the world cares more about what weapons you can make. Brian turned out to be really good at designing guns and stuff, and somehow I found myself in the arms business with him."  
Frank leans forward to listen, resting his elbows on his knees as Gerard keeps talking.  
"And when Brian got asked to design this bomb, he just kind of went with it." Gerard says, looking at Frank. "Until the Agency actually came to get the activation codes and controls. That's when Brian realized he wasn't going to just hand over a bomb. And, well. He didn't make it. But I carried on, you know? So I changed the codes and held the real ones in my mind so no one could find them. Of course, it's just my luck that the Agency has mind-hackers on their side," Gerard adds, laughing bitterly.  
"I'm sorry," Frank says. "Once this is over, the Agency won't do this kind of shit anymore. To anyone."  
Gerard studies Frank's face for a minute.  
"They took someone away from you, too," Gerard says cautiously.  
_You have no idea._  
"Yeah," Frank answers, fighting the urge to gather Gerard in his arms and never let go.  
"They did."

•

Frank tries to be discreet in the way he keeps sneaking looks at Gerard, but he ends up getting caught most of the time so Frank gives up before he does something stupid like _blush_. (He's pretty sure it's happened three times already, but what-the-fuck-ever.)  
He keeps hoping that maybe Gerard will recognize something from his past with Frank and start remembering, but nothing happens, not even when Gerard steps into Frank's apartment.  
"Nice place," is all he says before he smiles and shrugs his coat off.  
By that time, it's well past midnight, so Frank gives Gerard a toothbrush and pyjamas and ushers him into the bathroom to shower.  
Frank quickly cleans his room, on the edge of frantic while Gerard's in the bathroom.  
He plops himself down on the couch when he's done, putting his head in his hands.  
The events of the day quickly catch up with him. He shakily breathes in and out when he remembers Gerard's face in that split second of time before Frank knocked him out. He had looked... Almost happy.  
Shocked, and probably angry, but happy, too. 

Frank turns on the tv when he hears the water from the shower turn off. He doesn't really watch, but he doesn't want Gerard to think he's been having some sort of breakdown if he finds him staring blankly at the wall.  
The bathroom door opens behind Frank, and Gerard walks out, saying, "Man, I haven't showered in a while."  
Frank smiles, knowing all too well about Gerard's shower routine, but then it's instantly sad to think about and Frank has to rearrange his face before Gerard notices.  
Gerard sits down beside Frank on the couch, making Frank look at him.  
He regrets it as soon as he turns his head, because Gerard is wearing Frank's old clothes as pyjamas, his black hair damp and clinging to his neck, still shiny from the water. And he's so _close_ – his knee is touching Frank's and Frank can actually smell his shower gel on Gerard, making it almost impossible _not_ to kiss him.  
Almost.  
Frank pulls himself together and tries for casual.  
"My turn," he says, walking towards the bathroom. "You can sleep in my room, I'll take the couch."  
He's out of the room before Gerard can answer.

•

Gerard stares at the closed door of the bathroom, trying to make sense of his confusion.  
Which is difficult, Gerard thinks, because he doesn't even know what he's confused about. All he knows is that he gets a weird feeling around Frank, like he wants to trust him. He already _does_ trust him, more than he should, but for some reason it feels right. _Frank_ feels right.  
Gerard shakes his head, trying to clear it. He can't start thinking nonsensical things like this now, _especially_ not about Frank.  
He sighs, turns off the tv, and walks into Frank's bedroom to go to sleep. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaa stuff is happening aaaa (sorry if it's a little short!)

Gerard wakes up to the smell of coffee and eggs, sunlight streaming in through the curtains. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and heaves himself out of bed.  
Frank is turning the stove off when Gerard walks in, not seeing him at first.  
"Morning," he yawns, and Frank looks up as Gerard brushes his bed head out of his eyes.  
Frank's face changes for a second, his eyes looking almost sad.  
The look is gone in the next second, though– he must've just imagined it.  
"Hey," Frank says, putting on a smile. "I made coffee," he adds, gesturing to the mugs on the table.  
Gerard sits down. "You didn't have to make breakfast," he says.  
Frank rolls his eyes. "What else would I have done?"  
"I dunno, take-out," Gerard says into his mug.  
Frank raises an eyebrow. "For breakfast?"  
"Look, this is me saying thank you for breakfast, just accept it," Gerard tells him, smiling down at his plate as he digs into the eggs with his fork.  
"Gladly," Frank says, quieter than usual, and Gerard's stomach does a stupid little flippy thing that has nothing to do with the food. He looks up at Frank, but his eyes are downcast, not noticing.  
Frank's hair slips from behind his ear and Gerard watches as he lifts a tattooed hand to brush it out of his eyes.  
Gerard only realizes he's staring when Frank lifts his head and gives him a questioning look. Feeling his cheeks turn red, Gerard quickly averts his gaze and coughs awkwardly.  
"Gerard," Frank says, and Gerard stops breathing for a second. Did he notice him staring? Shit.  
"Um," Gerard says.  
Frank's mouth quirks in a slight smile. "Salt, please?"  
"Oh, uh. Right," Gerard says, fumbling with the salt shaker and giving it to Frank. _Shit._  
"Thanks," Frank says, taking the salt shaker easily, drawing Gerard's eyes back to his hands. Gerard itches for his sketchbook. _No,_ says a voice in the back of his head. No crushing on your partner in crime allowed.  
It's not my fucking fault he's gorgeous, he tells himself. And _hot._ Really fucking hot. And–  
_Shut up shut up shut up._  
Gerard spends the next five minutes trying to think about something else.

Then Frank starts humming absentmindedly and Gerard realizes he's fucking screwed.

•

One of the things Frank misses most about the old Gerard, _his_ Gerard, is the freedom to express how beautiful he thinks Gerard is. He used to whisper it into his neck when he woke up. He used to say it as he pushed Gerard up against the wall, breath hot in his ear.  
Now he's stuck watching from afar, seeing as it's not socially acceptable to tell a person who barely knows you that you're in love with them- not even when said person walks into the kitchen with messy hair, wearing Frank's clothes.  
What did he do to deserve this?

"Are we gonna figure out a plan?" Gerard asks after they finish breakfast.  
"Right. Yeah. A plan," Frank mutters. "Um."  
"Our biggest concern is the bomb," Gerard supplies.  
"Yeah, okay, let's focus on that first," Frank says.  
"We don't have to steal the actual bomb, it's controlled from a briefcase. That's where you'd detonate it from, so we should take that. The bomb's useless without it," Gerard continues.  
Frank nods. "I know where they'd keep it. I can get it because I'm one of their agents, it wouldn't be suspicious. You, however..." Frank adds, giving Gerard a look.  
Gerard rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna go in with you, don't worry. You can't do this alone, though, I'm helping you. Plus, you brought me all the way to your apartment, so you might as well let me."  
Frank fights back a smile. Gerard's still really fucking stubborn.  
"So you'll be the guy with the van outside with the walkie-talkie?"  
Gerard grins and nods. "Yep. And if you need backup, I'll be right there."  
"So I take the briefcase and get out?"  
Gerard shifts in his seat. "You said something about taking out the Director?"  
"I don't know if I should do that the same day or later," Frank says.  
"If he knew you took the briefcase, would he come after you? So you could deal with him then?"  
Frank shakes his head. "He'd probably send another agent to kill me. So yeah, you're right, if I'm killing the Director, I gotta do it the same day."  
Gerard stares down at the table.  
"Are... I mean. Are you gonna be..." Gerard starts, hesitating.  
"I'll be okay," Frank says for him.  
Gerard looks up. "What if..." He shakes his head and looks back down at the table. "Never mind."  
"Hey," Frank says softly, surprising himself. "It'll work out. It just takes one gunshot, then I'm out of there and we're done the job."  
Gerard is looking at Frank's hands on the table, making Frank want to reach out to him.  
"Okay," Gerard says after a while. "Okay."

•

The rest of the day is talking out the technicalities- Frank teaches Gerard the basics of a gun, they check if the earpieces work, they go through the plan.

Then night falls and it's time.

•

Gerard stops the car they had rented at the last minute under the shadow of a tree, glancing around restlessly.  
"Well, wish me luck," Frank says, unbuckling his seatbelt.  
"Good luck," Gerard murmurs, watching Frank, who's just about to open the door and get out when Gerard grabs his arm. "Frank?"  
Frank sits back down, Gerard's hand still on his arm. "Yeah?"  
"Just make sure you come back, okay?"  
Frank's stomach twists. "I will," he says, taking Gerard's hand in his for a second, ignoring the sensible part of his brain shouting at him to let go.  
Gerard just stares at him as Frank squeezes his hand a little. "I will," he repeats, and then he's out of the car.

•

Gerard watches Frank cross the street and get inside the building before he sighs and lets his head fall back against the headrest. His hand is still a little warm from where Frank held it.  
"What the _fuck_ am I doing?" he asks the empty car.  
"Well, you offered to help, so, here we are," says Frank's voice in his ear.  
"Shit," Gerard hisses, startled. He completely forgot about the earpieces. Of course.  
"You having second thoughts?" Frank asks.  
"No, not at all, just. Hurry up?"  
Frank's quiet chuckle right there in Gerard's ear is _certainly_ not helping matters.  
"Almost there," Frank says in a whisper. "I'm– _shit_ ," he hisses a second later.  
Gerard sits up. "What?"  
"Bob," Frank says. "Really don't want to deal with him right now."  
Gerard thinks he can hear Frank running down a hallway through the earpiece.  
"Okay, I'm clear," Frank breathes, and Gerard has to pinch his arm to stay focused because now is definitely not the time to be distracted by Frank's _breathing sounds_ in his ear, what the _fuck_.  
"Showtime," Frank mutters.  
"Was that an Incredibles reference?"  
"Not really, but you're right, it could be," Frank says. "Yeah, let's pretend it was."  
Gerard bites his lip as he smiles.  
"Except," Frank says, "that doesn't really work, because Mr. Incredible's name is Bob."  
"Maybe your Bob is Mr. Incredible's evil twin."  
"No kidding," Frank says, somewhat darkly.  
"What did he..." Gerard starts, but then he realizes he's probably invading Frank's privacy. "I mean, never mind."  
Frank is silent on the other end for a moment.  
"He just... Took something away from me. Something important," Frank ends up saying.  
"I'm sorry," Gerard says. "I shouldn't have asked."  
"It's okay," Frank answers, and he sounds sincere. "Don't apologize."  
Gerard nods, even though Frank can't see him, and listens to Frank's breathing, both of them falling silent.

It would be a relatively peaceful silence, if the situation were different and Gerard weren't worried that Frank might not come back in one piece.

•

"You still there?" Frank asks after a minute of not talking.  
"Yeah," comes Gerard's reply.  
"I'm in," Frank says as he slips through the door, shutting it behind him.  
"How very Mission Impossible of you," Gerard replies.  
Frank rolls his eyes. "Fuck you, I'm better than Ethan Hunt."  
Gerard's laugh sounds through the earpiece as Frank looks for the briefcase. "Really," he says, drawing out the word.  
"First of all, I'm a _real_ agent," Frank tells him.  
"Mm-hmm," Gerard says, sounding amused. "You're pretty short for an agent, though, aren't you?"  
Frank groans. "Everyone says that, what the fuck."  
"Don't worry, I know you're better than Ethan Hunt."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah," Gerard replies. "I mean... You have better hair? Actually, you kinda have the same hair."  
"It looks better on me," Frank says in his best diva voice.  
Gerard laughs. "Yeah, sure. You also have a better work partner– wait, who am I kidding, Benji's _awesome_."  
"You're such a nerd," Frank says, shaking his head. "For the record, though, I'd rather have you than Benji."  
There's a second of quiet from Gerard's end and Frank wonders if he's crossed the line.  
"I'd rather have you than Ethan Hunt," Gerard jokes right after, but Frank can hear something serious underneath, making his heart clench.  
"I can't believe we're geeking out over Mission Impossible when I'm trying to steal a bomb," he mutters, stopping himself from saying something stupidly cheesy.  
"It's only appropriate," Gerard says just as Frank finds the briefcase. He takes it and puts it in his bag. "I have it," he tells Gerard. "Mission's half over."  
"Okay," Gerard says back, sounding nervous.  
"I'll be careful," Frank reassures Gerard as he makes his way back to the door.  
"Yeah," Gerard says, releasing the word on an exhale.  
Frank gets to the door and opens it, preparing to walk out.

Instead he finds his way blocked by the Director himself.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is some very cliche villainy ^_^

Frank doesn't even have time to do anything before the Director starts speaking.  
"Frank. I've been expecting you," he says casually.  
"I–"  
"You can save your explanations," the Director interrupts sharply. "I know why you're here. You're not as unpredictable as you may think. So," the Director says, "where is he?"  
Frank stares.  
The Director smiles. "Frank, don't play dumb, I know Mr. Way is around here somewhere, correct?"  
"Frank?" comes Gerard's voice quietly through the earpiece.  
"No," Frank tells the Director. "I'm alone."  
The Director's face hardens. "Don't lie to me. I know why you're here, now give me the briefcase."  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Frank says.  
The Director punches him in the face, making him stagger backwards and hit the wall.  
"Frank!" Gerard says again, his voice frantic in Frank's ear.  
Frank groans as he receives another hit to the stomach.  
His legs get kicked out from underneath him and he hits the floor hard, only barely hearing Gerard say, "I'm coming, Frank, hold on," as he tries to clear his head.  
Frank gets to his feet and manages to dodge the next blow the Director aims at him.  
He gets a hold of his gun and aims it at the Director just as Gerard shows up, holding a gun of his own.  
"There he is," the Director says to Frank. "What did I say about lying?"  
Frank is about reply when he feels something cold press against the back of his head– the barrel of a gun.  
He doesn't even need to look behind him to know who it is.  
"Bob," he says.  
"Hey, Frank," Bob replies, pressing the gun harder against his head.  
"Frank, you will give me your gun. Try anything else and Bob shoots."  
Gerard gives Frank a nod when he meets his eyes. He puts his gun on the floor slowly. The Director takes it and points it at Gerard.  
"Don't you fucking _dare_ ," Frank growls.  
"A little protective, are we?" the Director chuckles. "But then, it only makes sense. You wouldn't want to lose him a second time."  
"A second time?" Gerard asks hesitantly from his spot in the hall. "Frank, what's he talking about?"  
"You didn't _tell_ him, Frank?" the Director exclaims. "Oh, this is entertaining," he laughs, cocking the gun.  
" _Don't_ , please, don't shoot him, fuck. I'll give you the fucking briefcase, okay? Don't shoot," Frank panics, talking fast.  
"Frank, what the fuck? Don't just give him the–"  
" _Gerard_ ," Frank interrupts him, "shut up."  
"This is all very sweet, Frank, but if you don't mind, could you get on with it?" the Director says, waving the gun around.  
Frank grits his teeth, de-shoulders his bag and takes out the briefcase, sliding it across the floor to the Director.  
"Perfect," the Director drawls. "Thank you, Bob," he adds, and Frank feels the barrel of the gun go. He looks behind him to see that Bob is now pointing the gun at Gerard as the Director bends down to pick up the briefcase.  
_Don't don't don't_ , Frank thinks frantically. _Don't shoot Gerard, please–_  
"I'm sorry, Frank," Gerard says, meeting his eyes for a split second before shooting the Director.

•

Everything after that point happens so fast– the Director falling to the floor, then Gerard doing the same thing just a moment later as Bob shoots.  
Frank hears nothing; he feels his mouth open to scream, he feels his voice scrape his throat.  
He wrenches himself away from Bob, not giving a shit about the briefcase because Gerard is on the floor and he's not getting up, _he isn't getting up_.  
"Gerard," Frank hears himself say, only vaguely aware of Bob moving behind him. "Gerard!"  
Gerard doesn't answer.  
Bob snatches the briefcase and makes his way down the hall, about to turn the corner when pure rage boils up in Frank, hot anger coursing through his veins.  
" _You_ ," he hisses, and Bob stops to look at Frank. "You fucking _coward_ , just run away after you–" Frank breaks off, choking on the word, his voice lost in a sob.  
Bob gives him a look that doesn't make sense; the kind of look you'd give someone when you're sharing a secret with them.  
Then he turns on his heel.  
"Don't you walk away, you–" Frank starts shouting, but it's useless. Bob is gone.  
Frank is alone in the hallway, holding Gerard's head in his lap, the Director lying motionless behind him.  
"Gerard," he whispers, and he feels empty, like this isn't really happening, Gerard can't be dead.  
The feeling only lasts for a moment. Frank's breath leaves him all at once when suddenly it hits him: Gerard's gone.  
He can't process it. Painful disbelief fills his lungs instead of air.  
"No," Frank whimpers. "No, no, no."  
His strength leaves his body and he breaks down, curling in around Gerard, holding him close, crying into his hair.  
_You wouldn't want to lose him a second time._  
He didn't even get the chance to tell him the truth. Tell him he loves him.  
Frank's body tightens with new sobs and he holds Gerard closer.

•

He doesn't know how long he stays like that; it feels like hours.  
In reality, though, it's only a couple minutes, and it's after the second one that Frank feels a pulse.  
He stiffens, knowing that it's probably just his own heart beating, but he presses two fingers under Gerard's jaw anyway.  
_There._ Definitely a pulse, feather light, delicate, but still there.  
Frank abruptly inhales in shock, moving his hands back to Gerard's head.  
"Gerard," Frank says. It's the only thing he knows how to say at this point.  
Frank waits, watching Gerard, urging him to start breathing, open his eyes.  
Gerard draws in a weak breath through his nose.  
Frank bites his lip, thinking _please, please, please._  
Another breath. Two more.  
"Fuck," Frank say shakily. "Gerard, fuck, please wake up, wake _up_."  
Frank counts Gerard's breaths; one, two, three, four.  
After nine, Gerard's eyelids start to flutter.  
Frank's speechless, watching Gerard as he opens his eyes.  
"What happened?" Gerard whispers, and Frank doesn't answer him, instead he wraps his arms around him, twisting one hand in his hair.  
"Holy shit, Gerard," he breathes. "I thought– I thought you were–"  
"Frank," Gerard interrupts him, hugging him back. "Shh, it's okay, I'm here," he says into Frank's ear.  
Frank breathes him in, shaking, not wanting to let go. He keeps Gerard pressed against him for a while, possibly for longer that Gerard would think normal in this situation, but Frank doesn't think about that. He moves his hand in Gerard's hair, feeling Gerard's breath in his ear as he whispers, "I'm okay... it's okay." Then he remembers.  
"Where are you hurt?" Frank says suddenly.  
Gerard gives him a confused look. "Hurt?"  
"Yeah, Bob shot you, where?"  
"Uh, I don't–"  
"Wait," Frank says, noticing a hole in Gerard's sleeve. He pulls off Gerard's jacket, lifting up his t-shirt sleeve to reveal a tiny dart, not even fully under Gerard's skin.  
"Holy _fuck_ ," Frank says.  
"What? What is it?" Gerard twists to look.  
"He... Bob shot you with... Well, basically a sleep dart. It makes it seem like you're dead for a little while– why the _fuck_ didn't I think of that? He probably wanted the Director to think you were dead when you weren't..." Frank says, shaking his head. Maybe Bob isn't such a douche after all. "I should've noticed you weren't bleeding."  
Gerard breathes out a laugh and pulls out the tiny bullet. "Well, I'm here now, we can worry about your shitty observation skills later. Speaking of shitty observation skills," Gerard adds with widening eyes, "where's the briefcase?"  
_Oh,_ Frank thinks. _Shit_.

"Um," Frank says, looking around awkwardly. "I kinda let Bob get away with it."  
"What?"  
Frank looks at Gerard worryingly. "Oops?"  
"Frank," Gerard says, running a hand through his hair. They lost what they'd come here for. "I thought– Isn't that what we–"  
"That was the entire point of this thing, yeah, but shit happened, okay?" Frank interrupts, and his voice comes out a harsh.  
Gerard stills. Frank is staring at the floor, cheeks flushed and hands clenched.  
"Frank," Gerard says softly, alarmed to see tears well up in Frank's eyes again when he speaks.  
"Let's just get out of here, okay?" Frank says somewhat weakly, standing up.  
Gerard stares at him for a moment before getting up to follow him out of the building. They don't run into anyone else, making the walk back quiet and tense, as well as the car ride.  
They get all the way to Frank's apartment before Gerard speaks up.  
"Frank, I'm sorry," he starts.  
"For what?"  
"For... I mean, I just shouldn't have said– I shouldn't have–"  
"Gerard," Frank breathes, running a hand over his face. "Shit. You didn't do anything wrong. I just... I panicked, I thought you were gone, I forgot about the mission completely."  
Gerard looks at Frank cautiously for a moment before deciding to just ask.  
"What the Director said... Losing me a second time?"  
Frank's face pales. He doesn't say anything.  
"Frank? What did that mean? Am I some sort of failed mission or something that you lost? Is that why you found me again? Am I –"  
"You are _not_ just a 'mission' to me," Frank says suddenly. "You're– you're more to me than that, don't you think for a _second_ that you're just..." Frank trails off, dropping himself down on the couch.  
Part of Gerard is happy, singing _he cares, Frank cares_ , at him from the back of his mind.  
Another, bigger part of him is fucking _confused_ , almost to the point of anger.  
"Why?" he demands suddenly.  
"What?"  
"Why am I– why are– what _is_ this, Frank? What the _fuck_ ," Gerard says, and Frank stands up from the couch, walking towards Gerard.  
"Wait, Gerard, you're not making any sense," Frank says, putting a hand on Gerard's arm. "You're in shock, hold on–"  
Gerard jumps away. Frank's face falls. "Gerard," Frank says quietly. "What's going on?"  
"I'm... What are you doing, Frank?" Gerard can hear himself and he isn't making any fucking sense, but at the moment it's too much, he has to say something. "What is it about you that just– why do I feel like... Like I'm safe around you, like I trust you, but it's more than that, it's like I _know_ you. I look at you sometimes and I feel like I'm..." Gerard trails off.  
Frank is staring at Gerard, something breaking in his eyes.  
"You feel like you're what," Frank whispers, taking a step towards Gerard.  
Gerard's heart skips a beat when he looks at Frank, standing so close to him.  
"Just. you..." He trails off when he sees Frank take another tentative step towards him.  
Gerard shivers and tries again.  
"There's something about... I don't know. I trust you way too much. I don't know," he says again in a whisper, and Frank moves his hand to Gerard's neck.  
"Then trust me," Frank breathes, and he's leaning forward, brushing his lips over Gerard's, eyes slipping shut. Gerard holds still for a second before he gives up and kisses him back, holding back a whimper when Frank's hand snakes into his hair, kissing him so softly that Gerard feels as fragile as glass and Frank could break him any second.  
Gerard doesn't realize he had put his hands on Frank's hips until he touches Frank's skin where his shirt rode up. Frank makes a sound in the back of his throat and angles his head to run his tongue over Gerard's lip. His fingers on Gerard's face are delicate, barely grazing his skin, making him shiver.  
It feels so overwhelmingly _right_ that Gerard needs to pull back and breathe for a little bit, still close to Frank.  
"Why does it feel like this?" _Why does it feel like I'm already in love with you?_  
Frank presses his forehead to Gerard's.  
"Does it matter?" He asks just as quietly.  
Gerard squeezes his eyes shut, resisting the temptation to lean even more into Frank's touch. He can't do this without knowing what it means, what the Director was talking about- and Frank obviously isn't ready to tell him yet.  
Gerard forces himself to move away.  
"I can't. It's too much, Frank, I'm..."  
Frank stares at the carpet. "Yeah. Other stuff to deal with, too," he says flatly.  
"I- I think we both just need some time to work all this out," Gerard says hesitantly.  
"Yeah," Frank says again, quieter this time.  
Gerard looks at him for another minute before murmuring a "good night," and going to bed.  
He doesn't get very much sleep that night.


	9. Chapter 9

Frank sighs when he hears the bedroom door close, inwardly groaning.  
_What the fuck did I just do?_ He hadn't even been in control of himself, hadn't thought about how Gerard doesn't love him anymore, doesn't _know_ him anymore. 

Now he's messed things up when they still have a bomb to worry about. 

Thinking about the bomb makes Frank think about Gerard getting shot, and thinking about that makes him panic again.  
No way is he letting anyone hurt Gerard again, whether it's a sleep dart or a bullet.  
It only takes a second to make the decision, and then he's putting on his shoes and reaching for his bag. He spares a glance at the closed door of the bedroom and hesitates.  
Frank shakes his head and grabs a paper and pen, scribbling down a short note to Gerard and putting it on the counter.  
Then he slips quietly through the door.

•

Gerard opens his eyes with a slight headache, the room silent. He doesn't hear Frank moving around in the kitchen, so it must still be early. He rolls over to look at the clock.  
11:13 AM.  
Not early, then. Gerard starts to feel a little uneasy when he gets out of bed. Maybe Frank's just sleeping in, he thinks. Maybe he's just on his laptop or something.  
Gerard makes his way into the kitchen, finding it empty. Same with the living room.  
It's too quiet.  
Gerard runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Where the fuck–" he mutters, stopping short when he sees a note on the counter. 

_I'll be back. Don't wait up._

_xo frank.  
_

Gerard groans. "Frank, you _idiot_ ," he says to the empty apartment.  
He's gone to get the briefcase, no doubt about it. Gerard can't even follow him; he doesn't know where Bob is, he has no idea when Frank left.  
Now he's stuck here waiting for Frank to come back.  
"Oh, _hell_ , no," Gerard mumbles, practically running back into the bedroom to get to his phone. He finds Frank's number and calls it, murmuring, "Pick up, pick up, pick up."  
" _Hi, you've reached Frank Iero. Please leave a message and I'll get–_ "  
"Fucking hell," Gerard growls at the phone as he hangs up.  
He looks around the empty room, anxiously flipping his phone around in his hands. His eyes land on a box tucked away on the top shelf.  
Gerard slowly stands up and walks over to the box, reaching a hand out to touch it.  
_Stop snooping_ , he tells himself, but he takes the box off the shelf anyway. There's something about it that seems familiar, like he's drawn to it somehow.  
Sitting down on the floor, Gerard gently takes the lid off and looks inside the box.  
He finds some sea shells, bus tickets, receipts from some kind of record store, and at the bottom– photographs. He shakily takes out the pile and looks at the first one; it's a picture of the beach. The second one is of Frank lighting a cigarette. And the third is–  
"No," Gerard breathes.  
It's him. _Himself._ Bent over a sketchbook, not looking at the camera, a smile evident on his face.  
The fourth is also Gerard, this time sticking his tongue out at the camera.  
Fifth. Gerard sitting at a table, looking out a window.  
Sixth. Frank again.  
Seventh. Frank making a silly face next to a laughing Gerard.  
Eighth. Gerard kissing Frank's cheek.  
"No," Gerard says again. No way. It's impossible, he's only just met Frank, they never–  
"Holy _shit_." Gerard drops the photos and puts his head in his hands.  
It doesn't make any fucking sense. He doesn't remember any of it, and yet he feels like he does, like it's familiar. He peeks at the photos again through his fingers. Frank looks happy, content. Gerard looks happier, too, definitely more happy than he's been lately.  
It's too overwhelming. Gerard runs to the bathroom and throws up in the toilet. He closes his eyes and grips the toilet bowl, trying to get his breath back. The smell doesn't help him feel better, so he flushes the toilet, rinses his mouth, and stares at the tiles on the floor. Gerard stays like that for five minutes before he gets the strength in his legs back. 

Walking back into the bedroom, Gerard hastily puts the contents back in the box and drops himself down on the bed, wanting to get away from his thoughts for a while, just for a little bit as he closes his eyes.  
_It doesn't make sense._  
He can't deal with this right now. Gerard closes his eyes tight and only focuses on the sound of his own heartbeat.

•

Frank looks over at the passenger seat for the fifth time, his phone lying face down on it from when he'd ignored Gerard's call.  
He's tempted to pick up his phone and call him back, not even to explain, just to hear Gerard talk. Frank knows if he tried to explain that he had to do this alone Gerard would start arguing. At least Frank would be talking to him, though, instead of listening to the steady sound of tires over the road.  
He's almost glad Gerard doesn't call a second time. He knows he wouldn't be able to resist picking up, and Frank would somehow let slip his location, and Gerard would come find him and put himself in danger for Frank _again._  
Frank tightens his hands around the steering wheel and drives faster.

•

He isn't even sure if Bob's here, but Frank knows he isn't at the Agency headquarters anymore. Frank had talked to Ray (one of the rare non-asshole agents) before he left and apparently Bob's been known to hide out in certain places.  
This particular one has Frank walking down an alleyway to what seems to be an abandoned building. It's actually not a bad spot for a hideout; away from busy streets, yet close to the heart of the city.  
Frank creeps around the building, looking for a way in. He isn't too worried about guards; Ray had also told him that Bob likes working alone.  
Frank doesn't think he has surprise on his side, though. Bob's probably expecting him, ready for him.  
He slips in through the door in a silent, fluid motion. Pulling out his gun, Frank cautiously walks around the first floor, finding nothing.  
_Shit._ This means he has to take the stairs, which means more doors and echoey walls that could blow Frank's cover if he isn't careful.  
He pushes open the door to the stairs painstakingly slowly, biting his lip as he tries to stay as quiet as possible.  
Same thing on the way out. Frank listens and hears nothing. Bob either doesn't know he's here yet, or is simply waiting for him. Frank could also be in the wrong place, but he doesn't want to think about that possibility now.  
He makes it to the third floor. Silence again.  
Fourth floor, fifth floor.  
Frank's on the sixth floor when he finds Bob. 

•

"Okay," Gerard whispers into the pillow. "Okay."  
He sits up and sees the closed box sitting on the floor. Gerard feels slightly better; he's fairly sure he fell asleep at some point. He puts the box back in its spot on the shelf and stands back, studying it.  
_Think, Gerard._  
It's obviously him in the pictures, and Gerard can't think of any reason for them to be fake.  
Which means Gerard has an entire part of his life that he can't remember.  
"Shit," Gerard says into his hands. This is why he felt like Frank was familiar, someone he knew. Why Frank looked almost sad when Gerard greeted him in the morning. Why it felt like home when he kissed him.  
The thing that the Agency had taken away from Frank was _him_.  
At least, Gerard thinks, that love-at-first-sight moment he had when he woke up wasn't _completely_ ridiculous.  
He sighs, trying to calm himself. Does he talk to Frank about this when he gets home? Or act like he doesn't know about it until he gets his memory back?  
_If_ he gets his memory back. Sure, Gerard feels like he knows Frank, but maybe that's all he'll ever remember. Gerard shakes his head, standing up.  
He'll remember. He has to.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack I dunno about the general quality of this chapter, I've been tackling this and another fic at the same time. Hopefully this is adequate ;)

One thing about Bob Bryar– you shouldn't underestimate him. He has his gun pointed at Frank in a fraction of a second, a look of pure concentration on his face, taking Frank by surprise.  
The briefcase is right behind Bob, in plain sight.  
"I guess I can't just ask for it politely?" Frank tries.  
"Nope," Bob says. "To be honest with you, I wasn't expecting you here so early."  
"That explains your shitty hiding place," Frank replies, nodding to the briefcase.  
"Well, I just thought you'd spend more time with _him_ ," Bob shoots back.  
Frank glares. "Shut the fuck up about Gerard."  
"You've got me to thank for his life, so I'd watch it if I were you," Bob says indifferently, his gun lowering just slightly.  
Frank chooses that moment to move.  
He's across the room in a flash, ducking to avoid Bob's gunshot. Frank dives to the floor and yanks on Bob's feet. Bob falls and drops his gun.  
He lands a punch in Frank's stomach and climbs over Frank, pinning him down.  
"You should've left him alone, Frank," Bob growls, his hands heavy on Frank's shoulders.  
Frank doesn't answer, just grunts and struggles against Bob's weight.  
"Now when he remembers you you're gonna be dead," Bob snarls. "You should've left him alone."  
Frank stills and stares at Bob. "He's gonna remember me–?"  
Bob uses Frank's distraction to give another punch, aimed at his jaw. Frank manages to dodge it and hits him back. He tries to push him off, but Bob doesn't sway.  
Bob grabs Frank's gun on the floor next to him and points it at Frank's chest. Frank shoves at Bob's arms to point the gun away just as Bob shoots.The shot rings loud in Frank's ear as the bullet hits him in the shoulder. Frank cries out against the pain and knocks his head against Bob's, making Bob lose his balance. He takes advantage of the temporary loss of control and shoves Bob off, grabbing the gun and scrambling backwards away from him.  
Frank considers keeping Bob alive in the back of his mind, but instinct has already taken over. The trigger is pulled before Frank can even hesitate.  
Bob drops to the floor, Frank's hands following the movement with the gun.  
Frank huffs out a breath when Bob doesn't move, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He slowly gets up and moves towards the briefcase, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. He presses a hand to the wound and gingerly picks up the briefcase.  
Frank looks back at Bob, lying in a growing pool of blood. He manages to feel a wave of guilt under his hatred.  
Frank turns away and stumbles to the door. 

•

Gerard wearily paces the room for what must the the thousandth time. The sky is darkening– it's getting late and Frank's still not back. Gerard catches sight of the note again.  
_Don't wait up._  
Gerard snorts. As if.  
He jumps when he hears the door open, making a _clunk_ when the doorknob hits the wall. He scrambles to the door to see Frank stumble into the room holding the briefcase.  
"Frank," Gerard exclaims, getting to him in half a second. Frank slumps against Gerard, his head pressing into his chest, groaning as Gerard tries to look at his face.  
"Frank, shit, look at me," Gerard fusses, tilting Frank's head up.  
"I got it," Frank whispers. "The briefcase, I..."  
"Shh, I don't care about that," Gerard says, taking the briefcase out of Frank's hand and dropping it to the floor. "Shit," he breathes when he sees Frank's bloody face. "Gerard," Frank slurs, twisting his hand in Gerard's shirt.  
"You're hurt..." Gerard carries Frank to the bedroom and lays him down. "You have to take your jacket off, let me take care of you, come on."  
Frank doesn't move, just stares at Gerard. "You're so," he whispers, and coughs, breaking off.  
Gerard shakes his head. "Don't talk," he soothes, brushing Frank's hair from his eyes. "I've got you."  
Those words seem to undo Frank. "Gerard," he whimpers, reaching his good arm up to cling to Gerard's shirt collar, pulling him down.  
"I'm here," Gerard whispers, guiding Frank down to rest his head on the cushions. "Where's the first aid kit?"  
"Bathroom," Frank answers weakly, his fingers slipping on Gerard's shirt.  
"Don't move," Gerard says, and stands up to get it.  
"I took the bullet out," Frank mumbles when he gets back.  
"Please tell me you put a pressure bandage on it," Gerard says, gently pushing Frank's jacket off.  
"Yeah," comes Frank's weak reply. Gerard focuses on cleaning Frank's face and hands, changing the blood-stained bandage, murmuring soothing words whenever Frank flinches in pain. He's learned a little bit about tending to wounds in his time making weapons.  
"You're doing great, almost done," Gerard says softly, pressing down on the gauze. Frank is gazing at him when he looks up, eyes tracking his movements.  
"Okay?" Gerard asks, lightly rubbing a thumb over the bandage.  
Frank nods and mumbles something Gerard can't make out.  
"Get some rest," Gerard tells him, reaching a hand up to touch Frank's bruised face. Frank shakes his head and keeps trying to talk.  
"I let you down," he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut.  
"You didn't," Gerard hushes.  
Frank's brow furrows and he shakes his head again. "You don't... You don't remember. Us."  
Gerard stills. "I know," he breathes, watching Frank's face, feeling a wave of familiarity that he's used to by now.  
"You–"  
"Don't worry about that now," Gerard consoles him. "You've lost a lot of blood. Get some rest."  
"Gerard," Frank sighs, eyes opening again.  
"Yeah," Gerard says softly, fingers carding through Frank's hair. "I'm here." He hesitates, then leans down and presses a kiss to Frank's forehead. "Close your eyes."  
He's about to stand up and make some sort of dinner when Frank takes his hand, keeping him close.  
Gerard's pulse quickens as Frank runs his thumb over his wrist, whispering, "Stay."  
Gerard stays.

•

Frank wakes up disoriented, only realizing he's in his own bedroom when he blinks a couple of times. He looks up and sees Gerard sleeping next to him, sitting up with his back against the headboard. His arm is resting over Frank's good shoulder, providing a shelter for Frank in between Gerard's arm and torso.  
Frank briefly considers turning over and snuggling up against Gerard, but his wounded shoulder rules it out.  
His memories of when he came home are hazy– most of what he remembers is the gentle touch of Gerard's hands, cool on Frank's skin.  
Then he realizes– Gerard's response to Frank's apology for his lost memories.  
_I know._  
Was Gerard just saying that so Frank would go to sleep? Or does he actually know that he has a whole bunch of memories with Frank locked away, out of reach?  
Frank sits up and studies Gerard's face. He looks like he needs to stay asleep for a little longer– he probably didn't get any rest while Frank was gone, Frank thinks with a twinge of guilt. He gets out of bed as quietly as he can and gently moves Gerard so he can lie down properly, trying not to wake him. Gerard murmurs something in his sleep, leaning into Frank's touch. Frank brings the covers over Gerard and looks at the clock– it's early still, only 5:00 AM.  
He makes his way out of the room to the kitchen, getting some painkillers and gauze from the cabinet to change his bandage.  
Frank decides not to make coffee just yet. The smell would probably wake Gerard up, he thinks with a smile. Instead he looks out the window at the waking city, trying to figure out what exactly he's going to say to Gerard when he wakes up.  
He knows he's going to have to explain the whole 'you don't remember' thing, there's no avoiding that. Frank's gaze lands on the briefcase in the corner, still stained with his blood. With Bob and the Director gone, Ray is now technically the new Director. Frank can't think of anyone better for the job– he knows Ray is an agent he can trust with his life.  
The Agency is finally out of the way.  
Maybe now, if Frank's incredibly lucky, his life can go back to normal.

Gerard chooses that moment to sit down across the table from Frank, making him jump.  
"Sorry," Gerard chuckles. "Are you feeling better?"  
"Yeah," Frank says. "Thanks. For everything."  
"Yeah, well. I couldn't just let you bleed out," Gerard says, obviously trying to sound casual, but Frank can hear the distinct worry in his voice, see the blush forming on his cheeks.  
"You're up early," Frank comments.  
"Um, yeah. About that." Gerard shifts in his seat. "We need to talk," Gerard says hesitantly, making it sound like a question.  
Frank feels the blood rush from his head. This is it.  
"I didn't mean for that to sound so– I mean– I wanted to ask you about, um. You know what, I'll just show you–" Gerard stutters, getting up and going into the bedroom, leaving Frank confused.  
He's about to go follow him when Gerard comes back holding a box. _The_ box.  
Shit.  
Gerard sits down and puts the box in front of Frank, not saying anything.  
There's a tense silence as Frank just stares at the box. Then he looks up at Gerard anxiously.  
"I wanted to tell you," Frank starts. "I just... There was the entire thing with the bomb, and you said you needed time, and..." Frank trails off, running a hand over his face.  
"This explains everything," Gerard says quietly. "Ever since I saw you, I felt like you weren't a stranger. It–" Gerard huffs a laugh. "Well, it freaked me out."  
Frank nods slowly. "So do you..."  
Gerard meets his eyes for a moment, then looks down at the table. "No, I don't remember anything. Sorry."  
Frank bites his lip and doesn't say anything.  
"Frank?" asks Gerard softly.  
Frank swallows and nods, looking back at the box. After a second of consideration, he reaches over for it and takes the lid off. Gerard watches him silently.  
Frank pulls out a photo of Gerard looking out the window.  
"Coffee house down the block," Frank says, placing it in front of Gerard, his voice tight.  
"Day trip we took to the beach for your birthday," Frank continues, pulling out the bus tickets and seashells.  
Gerard only looks at each for a second before looking back up at him.  
"Frank..."  
"First time you bought a record from the record store I got a job at," Frank interrupts, taking out the receipt. "You wanted to keep it for some fucking reason," he says, and he laughs shakily.  
Gerard gives him a sad smile and reaches across the table to take the receipt.  
Frank takes out another picture, ready to tell Gerard when it was taken, where they were, but his voice doesn't come out. He only realizes his eyes are watering when Gerard reaches across the table to wipe Frank's cheeks, his fingers soft on Frank's skin.  
"Frank," Gerard breathes, and then he's moving around the table to wrap his arms around Frank. Frank does the same, curling one hand gently in Gerard's hair, trying to get his breath back.  
"This was while you were out," Gerard says, moving away just enough to press his forehead to Frank's. "Away from the Agency."  
Frank nods, not trusting himself to use his voice. It pains him not to lean in and kiss Gerard, but he manages to resist.  
Gerard looks at the photos in front of him for another moment.  
"Show me," Gerard says.  
"What?"  
Gerard looks up at Frank. "Show me all these places. Help me remember."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some writer's block with this chapter :/ hope it's okay, though!

Frank seems nervous as they walk out the door. Gerard had tried convincing him to wait a couple days for his shoulder to heal, but Frank insisted on taking Gerard to the coffee house.  
"If your shoulder starts hurting, we're going back," Gerard tells him.  
"I'm fine," Frank says, looking down the street. "Come on, we're almost there."  
The coffee house is a small, cozy-looking place. Gerard likes it immediately.  
"Wow," he says when the smell of coffee hits him.  
Frank chuckles and gestures to the chalkboard menu on the wall. "Take your pick."  
Gerard wants to pay when they order, but Frank insists on taking care of it.   
"I have my wallet, just–"  
"Nope."  
"Frank–"  
"Too late," Frank says, putting the money on the counter just as Gerard pulls his wallet out. The cashier gives them a raised eyebrow and takes the money.  
They sit down with their coffee, Gerard glancing out the window at the passing cars on the street.  
He sees Frank go still out of the corner of his eye. Gerard faces him fully to see him staring right back, lips slightly parted.  
"What?"  
Frank bites his lip, hesitating. "Does this seem familiar to you at all?"  
Gerard looks around, at the shop, Frank, the street out the window. He doesn't recognize anything, he realizes with a sinking feeling.   
Gerard sighs and shakes his head. "Everything I recognize is just from the photo," he says apologetically.  
Frank studies his face for a moment more, his hands wrapped around the coffee mug.   
"You looked exactly like in the photo when you sat down," Frank says, shaking his head slightly. "Sorry, I shouldn't have expected anything–"  
"Tell me about it," Gerard says suddenly. "If you remember. Tell me anything you can think of about that day."  
Frank shifts in his seat, taking a breath. "Well," he sighs, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. "I remember we were talking about the Bouncing Souls? And you said you never really got into them," Frank adds, starting to smile. "So I said I was gonna take you on a 7 hour drive and listen to every Bouncing Souls song ever."  
Gerard laughs.   
"And you were like, 'okay, sounds good'," Frank continues. "So we just started talking about where we'd drive off to, and it turned into an entire plan for a road trip."  
"I went on a road trip with you?" Gerard asks.  
Frank scoffs. "Nah, we didn't have enough money for that. But it didn't matter, really, we just talked about the places we'd go, if we could... Then we forgot about it for a while, until your birthday. I took you to the beach."  
Gerard nods, remembering the photos.  
"If we went there again," he says slowly, meeting Frank's eyes. "Do you think it would help me remember?"  
Frank looks back at him, silent.   
"I don't know," he says quietly. "This place didn't really do anything."  
"Maybe it's because it's not as much of a big memory for me," Gerard replies. "Like, we went here a bunch of times, right? So it's not as specific. But something really special like going to the beach with you..."  
Frank smiles down at the table.   
"Special, huh?"   
Gerard looks at Frank, his pulse quickening when Frank's mouth quirks up. "Yeah," he says softly.  
Frank looks up when he says it, smile still in place.   
"Well..." he starts. "I guess it's worth a try."

•

They walk out of the coffee shop ten minutes later, Gerard insisting that they should go back to change Frank's bandage.  
"I'm okay," Frank says, holding back a smile when Gerard's brow furrows. "Come on."   
"We're going the wrong way," Gerard protests, tugging on Frank's sleeve a little.  
"No, we're just going back the long way. Relax," Frank adds as he untangles Gerard's fingers from his sleeve to link them with his own, holding Gerard's hand loosely as they cross the street.  
He tries not to think much of the way Gerard tightens his hold on Frank's hand when they get to the other side.   
(He fails.)

Frank takes them to a park he used to go to with Gerard, not to stir up memories, but just to enjoy his company again.  
The fact that Gerard hasn't let go of Frank's hand yet comforts him, makes him feel like maybe they've steadied themselves a little bit before something else goes wrong.   
_Please_ , Frank thinks, sneaking a look at Gerard, _don't let something else go wrong._  
"We used to go here," Gerard says, breaking the silence.  
Frank doesn't know whether Gerard's remembering or just deducing- he figures it's the latter.  
"I don't really remember it," Gerard continues, as if he heard Frank thinking it, "but, I don't know. It feels familiar. Like a déjà vu kind of thing."  
Frank nods. "Yeah," he tries saying, but it comes out quieter than he meant to. He clears his throat.  
"Yeah. I, um. Used to take you here a lot."  
He can see Gerard watching him out of the corner of his eye. It makes him feel almost ashamed, like he's making Gerard think it's his own fault for not remembering, so he gives him a smile.   
"We're not here for you to try and remember," Frank reassures him. "Just be yourself."  
"Myself," Gerard repeats.  
Frank nods. "Yourself right now. Don't worry about who you think you used to be," he says, and the words make Gerard stop and look at Frank for what feels like a whole minute.  
It makes Frank's breath catch in his throat, because he knows Gerard well enough to understand the look he has on his face- Gerard's gaze is flitting over Frank's face, his lips parted- the look he used to give him before he'd kiss Frank senseless.  
"Right," Gerard says quietly, looking away.   
He keeps walking, leaving Frank with no choice but to do the same, their fingers still linked together.  
"Right," Frank echoes, trying to keep himself from sounding too breathless. _Fuck._   
Now that he knows Gerard was thinking of kissing him he can't stop thinking about it either. He wonders what would have happened if Gerard hadn't backed off; if instead he'd closed the distance, what he would have said when they parted again.  
What if Frank made the first move, would Gerard go with it? He plays with that thought for a little bit before mentally scolding himself. Frank's promised both Gerard and himself that he'll give him space, let Gerard find his footing before taking that step.  
"Frank?"  
He's jolted out of his thoughts by Gerard's tentative voice.   
"Yeah?" He tries to sound casual, as if he hadn't just been thinking about pulling Gerard close and just going for it.  
"This, um... Agency. You're really out?"  
Frank glances at Gerard and sees him biting his lip a little.  
"Ray's the new Director. He's wiped my record and let me go," Frank says. "We can trust him. He's the closest I have to a friend in there."  
Gerard seems to lose the tension in his shoulders. It makes Frank feel a twinge of guilt- he's the one who dragged Gerard into all his Agency shit, made him go through it all.   
The worst part is, Frank's selfishly glad to have Gerard back, even after everything, when all signs had pointed to leaving him alone. He would've gone on living his life, forgetting about Frank, probably meeting someone else.  
The thought makes Frank tighten his grip slightly around Gerard's fingers.   
It also brings back what Bob had said- that Gerard will remember Frank. He has a sinking feeling that Bob was either wrong or just lying.   
"What do we do now?" Frank asks, trying to tread lightly. "I mean. You have your apartment and everything to get back to."  
"Do you want me to?"  
The question is unexpected, but it doesn't stop Frank from answering quickly. "No."  
Maybe a little too quickly.  
Gerard faces him again. Frank doesn't miss the small smile on his face and he can't help but smile back, probably blushing a little, what the fuck.  
"Look. How 'bout," Gerard says, looking down at their hands, "We see where this takes us. We can go to the beach, see if I remember anything- because, Frank, I want to remember you. Everything."  
The words make a bubbly feeling rise up in him, speeding his heart up and shaking his breath.  
"Yeah?" Frank asks quietly.  
Gerard smiles fully now. "Yeah."

•

They stop by Gerard's apartment to pick up his art supplies and clothes (Frank is a little disappointed at that- he'd enjoyed seeing Gerard wear Frank's shirts).  
The plan is to pack their bags and drive to the beach, stay there for three nights, then drive back.   
Frank is, to say the least, fucking nervous.   
That beach holds some of his most precious memories with Gerard; he doesn't want to go back there while Gerard still doesn't really know him. The idea of it has Frank's chest tighten.   
He doesn't tell Gerard, though, because it finally looks like they're getting somewhere.  
It's almost enough for Frank to ignore the nagging feeling that it might all be for nothing. That maybe he's just fooling himself, that Gerard won't fall back in love with him.  
Then Gerard gives him a shy smile over his to-go coffee, and Frank forgets about it.  
For a while, anyway.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!! With a final chapter! complete with dramatic happenings and mushy, mushy dialogue :o
> 
> (Yeahh it took me an eternity to update, but it's here. sorry :P )
> 
> As always, hope you enjoy it! Thank you for sticking with this story this far!

Frank was worried that the car ride would be awkward and strained, but now he knows he didn't have any reason to be. For the first couple hours, Gerard's asleep against the car door in the passenger seat, shifting every once in a while. It gives time for Frank to think- although he's not too sure that that's a good thing. Having time to think means having time to get himself into an anxious mess about the whole situation. A lot can happen in three nights- _in the same bed_ , Frank realizes. He hadn't actually thought of it before, but they will be sharing a bed. Feeling his face heat up, Frank blinks at the road and shakes his head at himself. _Get a grip._ Now is not the time to be thinking about sharing a bed with Gerard, honestly.  
When Gerard wakes up, Frank is shaken out of his thoughts. They turn on the radio and have conversations in between songs, loose and casual, and Frank finally feels himself start to relax. 

An hour later, they pull up to a beach house at the end of a dusty road. Frank leaves the engine on for a moment before shutting it off, filling the car with silence.  
"This is it," Frank says in what he hopes is a casual tone. Gerard nods, giving him what is probably meant to be an encouraging smile, and steps out of the car.

 

•

 

Frank pushes the door open. It gives a slight squeak before stopping, and Frank steps back to let Gerard walk into the room.  
Gerard gives him a tentative glance before moving forward, looking around quietly. Frank tries not to hold his breath.  
Gerard's footsteps are soft as he walks towards the window facing the ocean. Frank watches from a relatively safe distance, the sunset casting light on Gerard's face through the window, landing on his cheeks and slightly parted lips.  
"It's beautiful," Gerard says, barely breaking the silence.  
Frank's stomach twists. He knows what Gerard means by it- _it's nice, but I still don't remember it._ Frank is more disappointed by it than he feels he should be.  
He clears his throat. "It was warmer last time. We went swimming. The water's probably too cold now, though."  
He trails off, feeling slightly foolish.  
"So, um..." Gerard shifts his weight from foot to foot. "We kind of skipped lunch. Wanna eat dinner now?"  
Frank hadn't realized he was hungry until now. "Good idea," he says. "I actually made sandwiches for lunch. And then forgot about them."  
Gerard laughs and walks toward the kitchen to get a glass of water. "I'm glad you did. I don't feel like cooking anything."  
"Right," Frank says. "Sleeping in the car for two hours must have exhausted you."  
"Hey, it wasn't _two hours_ ," Gerard argues, hitting Frank lightly on the shoulder with a dish towel.  
"Sorry, two hours _and a half_. It's heroic that you made it this far." Frank grins at him as he leans over the counter, Gerard rolling his eyes, apparently short of comebacks. The silence that follows feels almost perfect- Gerard's lips forming a soft smile, his eyes meeting Frank's for a sweet moment- before Gerard shakes his head slightly and looks away.  
It feels like a punch to the gut; having a second where it feels like he's back here with the old Gerard who knows him, only to lose it as Gerard catches himself and turns away.  
Frank feels a twinge of annoyance, glaring at the table. Gerard has his back to him as he unpacks the sandwiches, tension in his movements when he brings them to Frank and sits down. They eat in silence.  
Frank sneaks a glance at Gerard and sees him looking back at him, but as soon as he does, Gerard's eyes widen marginally and shoot to the wall, his plate, his sandwich, anywhere but Frank.  
Barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes, Frank marvels at the ease with which a perfect moment can turn into awkward silence so fast. He wills Gerard to look back at him, make some kind of contact, but Gerard is still staring at his sandwich as if it holds the secrets to the universe.  
An exasperated sigh escapes Frank before he can stop it, and Gerard's head shoots up.  
"You okay?" Gerard asks.  
Frank, despite being a trained secret agent, is an impulsive person. It's for this reason that he thinks _fuck it_ , decides to stop pretending he's okay, and says, "How long are we gonna keep dancing around this?"  
He regrets it even as he says it, but the truth is he's been wanting to ask that question for a while now.  
Gerard seems to be stunned, either by the question or the cold way Frank asked it.  
_Say something_ , Frank thinks desperately, searching Gerard's eyes, his heart starting to thud in his chest.  
Gerard just stares back at him. It's his stillness that drives Frank's anger over the edge and he suddenly needs to get out of the room, away from Gerard.  
Frank's breath comes out of his lungs in a rush and he looks away, clenching his jaw.  
"Okay," he says tightly. "Fine."  
He'll just let Gerard figure himself out, then. Grabbing his jacket, he tries not to storm to the door.  
"Frank- wait." Gerard follows, reaching out a hand towards Frank but not touching him. Frank turns, jerking his jacket on over his shoulders.  
"What," he says, hostile.  
"I just-" Gerard's hand moves to his head, bunching his hair up in frustration. "This is hard for both of us, okay? I don't-"  
"I _know_ , Gerard, but to be fair, _you're_ the one who doesn't remember anything," Frank shoots back. "You can just walk away right now and start over, okay? But I can't. If this doesn't work out, I don't have the fucking luxury to pretend it never happened, not like you."  
Gerard's eyes narrow. "You think this doesn't hurt for me too?" he asks, his cheeks flushing. "You actually think I can just walk away from you? I just don't want to get my hopes up, because it's painful enough looking at you and knowing there's an entire part of my life with you that I can't reach, okay?"  
Gerard's hands have balled up into fists at this point, stiff by his sides.  
"Don't talk to me about pain," Frank says through clenched teeth, knowing he's being unfair and choosing to ignore it. "Because at least you don't have to live with the memories of who we used to be, Gerard. I can only stay in the same place where we used to be happy for so long." Frank doesn't try to stop the venom seeping into his voice.  
He turns away from Gerard's stricken face and tugs on the doorknob. Slowing down for a second, he sighs.  
"I think we both know this isn't gonna work, Gee," Frank says quietly. He can feel Gerard's eyes on his back as he rests his forehead on the wood.  
Then he steps out the door and slams it closed behind him.

 

•

 

Gerard's tempted to kick a chair as he watches Frank leave. He doesn't, instead opting to direct an irritated sigh at the door.  
_Fuck._  
He feels his frustration scraping at the inside of his chest, trying to get out, and he wants to run after Frank to scream at him, tell him he's a fucking idiot, and kiss him, all at the same time.  
It's just- Frank can't just- " _Fuck,_ " Gerard curses Frank under his breath, heaving himself down in the nearest chair. He waits for Frank to come back for a moment. The door doesn't open again.  
Gerard stands up, releasing the breath he'd been holding. He can feel most of his anger seep out of him, replaced by sadness and a longing for things to just go back to normal. He just wants to be the Gerard he used to be, the Gerard he saw in the photos at Frank's apartment. He just wants to be in love with Frank again.  
Pacing, he walks across the room to the window facing the shore. He can vaguely see the figure of Frank walking along the beach, his shoulders hunched over. He stops and looks at Frank for a moment. _I just want to be in love with him again._  
The words feel out of place in Gerard's mind. He resumes his pacing.  
_But I'm in love with him already._  
Gerard freezes.  
"I'm an _idiot_ ," he says, much too loudly for someone who's talking to themselves, but Gerard's too busy throwing the door open to notice.  


 

•

 

Gerard doesn't follow him into the hallway. Determined to not feel disappointed, Frank goes down the stairs and pushes the back door open to get outside. He shoves his hands in his pockets, watching his own feet as they take him to the beach.  
The waves reach out to him when he gets to the shore. Frank turns his head away from the breeze and checks behind him.  
Still no Gerard.  
He bites his lip, guilt starting to rush into his lungs.  
_But he didn't have to pretend everything was just fine_ , Frank thinks bitterly, and there's the heat from the argument coming back to him now, making him shove his hands further into his pockets.  
_You didn't have to pretend_ he _was just fine, either_ , a voice at the back of Frank's mind reminds him.  
He slows down and processes that thought for a little bit. _You can just walk away,_ he'd said. Frank winces at the memory. He hadn't meant to imply that Gerard didn't care- Gerard obviously cares, obviously wants to get back his memory.  
Maybe he doesn't _need_ to remember, though. Frank had thought that Gerard wanted to get his memory back so he could feel comfortable around Frank again, but maybe that's wrong. Maybe they should both start over, not just Gerard.  
Maybe Frank's the problem.  
_I think we both know this isn't gonna work, Gee._  
Fuck. Frank just ruined everything.  
Now Gerard thinks that Frank only wants him if he remembers.  
That if he doesn't remember, Frank can't love him.  
And _fuck_ , that's so far from the truth, Frank has to go back, _now,_ and tell Gerard he always wants him, he loves him no matter what.  
He turns abruptly, almost tripping over his own feet, and stops.  
Standing several feet behind him is Gerard, panting, his hair sweeping over his face in the wind.  
"Gerard," Frank breathes, moving towards him.  
Gerard's eyes are wide, lit up by the sun so that they look almost golden when Frank gets closer. Frank speaks first, wanting to get the words out.  
"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said all that, I didn't-"  
"Kiss me," Gerard interrupts breathlessly.  
Frank stares at him for a second.  
Then his brain catches up and he's closing the distance between them, his hands coming up to hold Gerard's face.  
Gerard's mouth falls open under Frank's immediately, soft and warm and familiar, kissing him back almost desperately. His breath hitches when Frank pulls away for a moment.  
"Frank," Gerard whispers as Frank angles his head to deepen the kiss. The saltwater breeze threads through Gerard's hair alongside Frank's fingers with a sigh, the tide coming in to reach at their feet.  
"I'm sorry, too," Gerard says quietly, his hand curling gently in the fabric of Frank's shirt. He pulls away to look Frank in the eyes.  
"I hate not remembering you," Gerard starts, and Frank shakes his head, saying, "You don't have to remember, I still-"  
"And I don't remember falling in love with you," Gerard interrupts him, determinedly cutting over Frank's words. "But it's okay, because... it's happening again."  
The air escapes Frank's lungs as his stomach swoops, Gerard's words ghosting over his lips.  
_It's happening again._  
"Gerard," Frank says, wrapping his arms around Gerard's neck, speaking into his hair. "Love you, I love you."  
The incoming tide surrounds them as Gerard whispers the words back, the water reflecting the sunset before it recedes below the horizon.

•

Frank wakes up with Gerard's face pressed into his neck, hints of sunlight coming in through the curtains. It's dawn, from what Frank can tell, and the room is quiet enough that he can hear the crash of waves on the shore outside. He drinks in the sight of Gerard curved around him. Frank can see faint bruises on Gerard's neck, leftover from last night, reminding Frank of how they had barely made it back inside before they were kissing again, of how Gerard's hands had tugged on his hair, of how Frank had pressed him gently on the bed, linking their fingers as he kissed his neck.  
Now, Frank gives Gerard a soft kiss on his forehead. Gerard shifts and opens his eyes halfway, smiling when he sees Frank.  
"Morning," Frank says quietly.  
Gerard giggles slightly. "Morning." After a beat of silence he says, "I had a dream about us."  
"Oh, really?" Frank says, lazily turning onto his back.  
"Yeah. I woke up next to you, just like now. Except I had to go to work. And you wanted me to stay and sleep in with you." Gerard grins. "You were pretty convincing."  
Frank doesn't say anything, just smiles and enjoys the presence of Gerard in his bed, his mind still quite hazy with sleep.  
"I know it's not, like, a huge important dream or anything, but I'm thinking... What if it's a memory?" Gerard's voice is tentative.  
Frank turns onto his side and looks at him. "Did it feel like a memory?"  
"Yeah, like." Gerard stops and thinks. "We were at my place." He wrinkles his nose a little bit. "At least, I think it was my place. I don't know."  
Frank ignores him and lightly straddles Gerard, trailing kisses along his collarbone.  
"I just..." Gerard's voice sounds breathy now. "Don't know if it was real life or just my imagination."  
Frank looks down at Gerard's face, holding his gaze before he smiles and kisses him.  
"Well, it's real now."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S OVER!!! It took me such a long time to finish but aaaaaaaaaa finally!!!!!! I hope you enjoyed the angst and fluff and blatant inaccuracies concerning secret agent stuff. Thanks for reading, and as always if you leave kudos/comments I'll be eternally grateful!! <3


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